Today I learned that I get really, really aggressive when it comes to football. ‘Specially college football (like this guy, only worse).

Today was the huge famous rivalry football game that my school participates in. Normally, I would be sitting in my dorm room with friends or in a crowded restaurant like B*dubs screaming at the television set until I was both hoarse and blue in the face. Given the fact that, until I experienced my first college football game, I was completely apathetic about football, this is quite the transformation.

But today made it particularly obvious. As I explained in my last post, my family is in town visiting me. So while I wasn’t able to watch the entire game, we did get the chance to spend some time in the small bar of the hotel my parents are staying in. Of course, like any self-respecting bar, they had the football game on. But it wasn’t a noisy place full of half-drunk, bellowing men. The three people sitting at the bar itself were a young man and his two very young children — the latter happily muching away on pizza and applesauce.

The only other occupants of the place included a middle-aged woman seated by herself at a table, my group of four, and the bar staff. Naturally, the place was pretty quiet. As I watched the game, I found myself getting increasingly agitated at an alarming rate. All sorts of crap was taking place on the field, but instead of heartily abusing both the refs and the players as I normally would to let off some steam, I had to both keep my voice down in the generally quiet room and make sure I didn’t harm any little virgin ears.

It was really hard! I never would have thought that my brainless ranting and raving during a game was actually a necessity to my sanity. It was also shocking at how quickly I found myself practically foaming at the mouth. Instead, I resorted to quick, strained groans under my breath and wheezy, indignant and high-pitched demands directed at my parents, who were my game-watching-companions and thus had to be subjected to my every thought about the quarterback’s complete inability to throw the damn ball.

And just think that two short years ago, I couldn’t have told you who the quarterback was or why he was on the field. I guess team loyalty is what makes football so popular. If I didn’t have my little green team, I wouldn’t care what was going on in the game, but being a fan means that I want my team to win, so I’m extremely concerned about their every move — and of the opponent’s.

I also wonder if this new personality trait will transition to the real world. Maybe I’ll move to a city that has its own team, and then I can be like Kate Hudson in How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days at the Knicks game. Wouldn’t that be fun.