Column: Context is crucial in roster construction and relationships. But that doesn’t soften the blow.

The days leading up to the MLB trade deadline can be an exciting time if your team is a buyer — or you’re just really into the drama of the season.

But if your team is a seller, it can be a completely different story. Player movement is part of the business, and getting traded can be an emotional experience for the player — and fans.

It’s hard to pin down what draws a fan base to a player, especially on teams that aren’t in contention and haven’t been in a while.

Sometimes that player is the bright spot on a bad team — not a star but someone who performed when no one else would. Sometimes that player connects with the fans off the field — he’s responsive on social media or stays longer to sign autographs.

Maybe that player supports causes that align with your values. Maybe he’s just honest about the team in a way most aren’t, and that’s endearing to frustrated fans. Even though the team offers little hope, you tune in just to see what that player is going to do. And before long, you get into a rhythm with him.

You become invested in his success. Because if he performs well, the team to which you concede the power to ruin your day just might win. And winning, whenever it comes, however it comes, feels good. It would be nice if they built around these guys.

But so few players stay with one organization these days, and the day they leave always comes. You want them happy and out of the misery of a losing team, but you realize their leaving also could mean even worse losing for a while. Maybe you’re even OK with that. Maybe that’s maturity. Can “growing up” and “sports fan” be compatible?

The summer fling is over. And the heartbreak of losing a player you loved is nigh. Maybe you knew it never would work — that player on this team. It was never realistic, but damn if you didn’t dream about it. It wasn’t the player’s fault, it’s just everything surrounding him was all wrong. That’s what people don’t get about relationships and roster construction: The context is crucial.

Knowing it wouldn’t work doesn’t soften the blow. That connection was forged over multiple summers, like a camp romance that compounded every year you both returned. It can be fanciful to think anything like that could pan out in the end, out in the real world, but isn’t that what gets us through sometimes? Being a little fanciful?

The Chicago White Sox are deconstructing (again), agreeing to ship out major returns from the prior breakup (Lucas Giolito and Reynaldo López) to the Los Angeles Angels on Wednesday night. The Cubs seem probable to move big names (Marcus Stroman and Cody Bellinger) on rental deals.

Both teams showcase the risk of investing emotionally in a baseball team at all — fans in Chicago have already been through this hardship. They know the deal and it’s a bit of a raw one. If you can’t win with Giolito and Lance Lynn, with Stroman and Bellinger, how are you going to win without them?

Along with feelings of sadness, there’s also frustration. Not with the players themselves but with the front offices. After all, it was them who brought these players into your life, and even though you were skeptical of the team’s situation, you went along for the ride. But ultimately you get tired of the hoping, of loving, of being let down. It’s a difficult place to be because you tell yourself “it’s just sports” and it shouldn’t sting the way it does.

When this moment passes, and it always does, the feeling of heartbreak eventually dulls. Some of you will move on from the team, but most will stay. There will be young, hopeful, talented players to take the places of your favorites. There are new names to learn, new stats and facts to remember, a new reason to check in on your team’s minor-league affiliates.

You’ll find yourself talking yourself into the team, opening yourself up to the possibilities of “what if.”

Being vulnerable is what it’s all about, isn’t it? To open yourself up again. To talk yourself into another season, another fun player on a team going nowhere. To dream, just a little, about what could be. To be fanciful … just this one more time.

But today, it’s still so hard to say goodbye.