This article was originally published prior to June 2, 2013. Due to a change in the content management systems, the initial publication date in not available. 

Anyone who says “it’s just a game” is full of it.

If it’s only a game, why did I spend the entire weekend moping and sulking like one of those girls from MTV’s “Sweet Sixteen”? And why would I hold a grudge against my friend Nick Peterson for having the same last name as that clown that runs my Kansas City Chiefs?

Because, to some people, it’s more than a game. That’s why.

I really can’t remember a time when my favorite teams lost more in one lousy weekend. My fall break was supposed to be good, too. I went to the Louisburg Cider Mill – enjoyed a nice afternoon with my lady friend and caught up on some sleep. Yet because my happiness is so often dictated by the success of my favorite sports teams, all I took away from the break was misery and self-loathing.

First, the Benedictine Ravens toyed with my emotions by giving the Baker men’s soccer team a 2-0 lead and then orchestrated, rather cruelly, one of the most ridiculous comebacks I’ve ever seen. Those yahoos are like the Robert “Big shot Bob” Horry’s of HAAC soccer – very little talent, but somehow they find a way to win all the time.

Then Colt McCoy decided to stab every member of the Mizzou secondary with his longhorn Saturday night en route to a lopsided loss for my beloved Tigers. (I'd tell you the final score, but I turned to booze with every UT touchdown and the fourth quarter was a bit of a blur). <br/>Finally, my Chiefs endured yet another crushing blow to their season and my self-esteem, losing in convincing fashion 34-10. Finally, my Chiefs endured yet another crushing blow to their season and my self-esteem, losing in convincing fashion 34-10.
Finally, my Chiefs endured yet another crushing blow to their season and my self-esteem, losing in convincing fashion 34-10.

A lot of you, like my mother, are probably saying: “So what? It’s just a game.” Well, I hate it when people say that. Don’t patronize me, I know what it is.

Telling an uber-fan “it’s just a game” is downplaying his passion. You wouldn’t tell Martha Stewart, “It’s only a poinsettia wreath centerpiece!” You wouldn’t say to Ruben Studdard, “Oh Rube, it’s just a doughnut,” would you? No, because centerpieces and doughnuts are to them what sporting events are to the true sports fan – passions.

So on behalf of all the real sports fans out there – the Patriot-hating, bandwagon-avoiding, championship-deflecting, Lexapro-popping people who suffer year after year following "youth movement teams" – I beg you, have mercy. <br/>