It happens all over America every Sunday. Millions of sports fans groan as their beloved team goes down in flames. The fumbles. The dropped passes. The missed opportunities. The paradoxical penalty that negated that touchdown...

Last Sunday I gave up on my beloved Washington Redskins. I have been a fan since, I don't know when, maybe 25 years ago. But after five seasons out of the playoffs (soon to be six), I have had it. I can't take it anymore. Too many "blue Mondays" for me. I have actually lived, breathed and drank the Redskins for so long that when they lost my week was bummed. Monday became a "non-productive" day. In the glory years, this didn't happen all that often. But five losses in a row? I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over a month.

I mean, there I was with the rest of them, sipping a beverage, munching on those overcooked wings and too greasy fries, feeling the elation on that first drive as the Redskins scored, only to feel the increasing despair as they sank into the mire of Jack Kemp Cooke Stadium and embarrassed themselves again. Images of the fans with the "Impeach Norv" signs, the bags over their faces, and the empty seats in the fourth quarter (of course, it was raining) danced through my head that night. When I woke up Monday morning, I knew what I had to do. It had to be a clean break. Swift. Painless. All ties had to be severed. The tee shirts, the posters, the banners. They all had to go. The bumper stickers. The briefs. The jacket (oh, no not the jacket!). All out. In the trash. Washington was losing one fan.

I got to wondering, though, as the withdrawal pains racked at my body. What about all the hundreds of thousands of sports fans around the country who have likewise suffered through ignominious embarrasment like myself with their beloved teams? Could it be that on Monday mornings all across America it's just not worth going to work any more? Can we really expect that our working professionals are in any mood to conduct business? Of course not! Mondays should be declared national days of mourning. The work week, from September through January, should be four days long. No question. No one can get anything done. To say we are bummed, grumpy and snappish would be an understatement. As long as we have professional football, we should have that Monday off to compensate for our rotten moods.

Of course, as I thought about it I realized that there are soccer fans, too. And hockey fans. And baseball fans. And basketball fans, too. I mean, when the Celtics lose, the whole city of Boston shuts down. And what about the Caps losing the Stanley Cup? And if the DC United ever fails to "three-peat?" Forget about it. Even the House Judiciary Committee will take off.

So, I guess, every day of the week, some team has lost and thousands and thousands of fans are bummed, blown and blubbering. No wonder nothing gets done anymore. The plummeting work ethic in America can all be blamed on professional sports. The American worker simply cannot concentrate in the workplace anymore. Too preoccupied with the emotional devastation of the previous night's contest. And parity certainly doesn't help. It make matters worse. I mean, it used to be that at least certain teams and their fans were safe. Like the Yankees. The Celtics. The Bulls. The Cowboys. Now, all hell breaks loose on any given day. You can't count on a victory anymore, anywhere. Something has to be done. We have to fight back!

The answer is obvious. I did it, and it works for me. It's simple, really. Root for the other team. That way you can't lose. If the other team wins, you win. If your (former) beloved home team wins, then you will take some residual pride in that victory. You win again. It's a win-win situation. It helps to buy the other team's banner, or make a friendly wager on the opposition. Pick up the other city's newspaper and read all the "trash talk" about your team. Gives you the right perspective. A really effective technique is to pick up a "baseball" cap of the other team's and drop by the local pub on game day. I mean, during the last week the Oriole's were playing I counted 250 Yankee's caps and not a single O's cap in one particular establishment at the Inner Harbor. Now that's the way to do it! When the game was over, everyone was happy. Just imagine how more productive we all were at the office the next day.