I unearthed this video from 1980, when I was in sixth grade and, like the boy featured here, emotionally defenseless to the improbable rise and sudden fall of a truly lovable local football team.

Despite its tremendous campyy-ness, the video brought a tear to my eye, a direct descendant of those that I bitterly shed on in my parents' bedroom that terrible Sunday afternoon.

And I wondered: Is it possible to be permanently wounded, to have one's psyche forever altered, by a perfectly-timed disappointment, even if it's from outside the home? (At play, at school, at work?)