Confession time: What's your worst reaction ever to a bad loss



 It's time for Dr. Funke to take off my receptionist skirt and put on my Barbara Streisand in the Prince Of Tides ass-masking therapist pantsuit.


I'm curious as to how everyone reacts to a bad loss.  Maybe it's a 3-day bender, maybe it's a long solitary walk, maybe it's some outrageous act  you'd like to forget. 

My worst as a fan was after the 2002 AFC Championship Game, the Steelers lost to the Patriots in what was later revealed to be part of Belichick's Spygate cheating spree.  After the game I was seething and my nagging dear wife politely asked me to empty the trash can.  It was a nice trash can, you know the metal kind with the foot lever that raises the lid.  I believe she bought it a month or two before the incident.  Well, I decided to take out my frustration on that trash can.  That trash can's not with us anymore. The scratches on the side of the refrigerator still remind me of that incident.  The wife took the liberty of locking me out of the house so I sat in the back yard in shorts and a  T-shirt while the evening temperature dropped.  Luckily we live in San Diego, but it still became awefully cold.  She let me back in after I literally cooled off and made me promise to never do that again.  I also refused to watch the Superbowl that year as well as the next two that the Patriots won in ought-four and five.  To this day, they are the only Superbowls I've missed since 1972. Fortunately the Steelers win in SB XL exorcised those demons and I was able to watch and enjoy the Pat's loss to the G-Men.

As a participant I've had plenty of losses from Little League, High School and Beer League games but the worst reaction ever came in a 5th grade spelling bee.  Our teacher was a retired WWII vet and we were always able to get him to blow off math class by asking about his participation in the Battle of the Bulge.  The guy was old school and carried an actual hickory stick and used it often.  I had avoided that stick for most of the school year until late in the spring he decided it was time for a boys vs. girls spelling bee.  The guys in my class were a bunch of dumbasses and got picked off pretty quickly so there I was, last man standing against the last five girls.  I was ready for them and got on a roll.  I took them out one by one and soon it was mano e mano, me vs. Brenda, my rival for the spot as top student in the class. 

To this day, I have no idea what the word was that I mispelled.  I know it was something easy that I probably could have spelled back in the second grade but I blew it and I was pissed.  I stomped back to my chair, sat down and put my feet up against the desk, you know the kind of elementary school desk that's detached from your chair and it has the opening underneath where you shove all your books and papers.  I stewed for a minute then shoved that desk with my feet, knocking it over and into the back of the chair of the kid in front of me.  Books, trash, uneaten remains of months old lunches flew everywhere.

Well, the old man wouldn't tolerate this.  He came over, grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the front of the room. He held my left wrist with his left hand and paddled my ass with that stick until I wailed in pain.  The old man retired after that year and I don't recall ever participating in a spelling bee again.

These days I take the losses much better.  Let's hear yours.

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