Well, we all know what to do when our team wins a championship:

We cheer, high five those in immediate vicinity, order more alcohol for the party, drink heavily and make high-pitched yodeling noises, and urinate around the perimeter of our home to mark our territory.

Then maybe we make a few calls to like-minded people and assure each other that we knew all year that we had the best team, but were too magnanimous and classy to openly gloat about such things. We recall our favorite plays of the championship game, and talk about how we felt the moment it all came together and our team clinched the top prize in its sport.

Some people - not myself - call fans of other teams and light-heartedly gloat, claiming to be just joking, but deep down knowing there's a profound satisfaction to having something to hold over other fans, if only until next season begins.

Then we clean up: Clean up after the party, launder that piece of rotten-animal-corpse-smelling clothing we didn't wash all year out of superstition, shave that atrocious "playoff hockey beard" that has been collecting remnants of every meal we've eaten for the past six months. Just kidding - who watches hockey???

And finally, perhaps the best part, we order the commemorative DVD, allowing us to relive highlights of our team's magical year in super slow motion high-definition with a dramatic baritone announcer touting our team's stalwart effort, magical chemistry and unwavering spirit.

But what about when your team loses? And worse, what about when they get really, really close to their ultimate goal, and then fail? What then? Well, you can drink heavily (yes, you do that when you win as well, but now it's much more subdued, and is accompanied by repeated variances of the phrase "we'll be better next year"). Or, like me, you can choose to try to create something positive out of something awful. For example, after the Celtics lost to the Lakers in the 2010 Finals, I dealt with the pain by blogging an entire comedic novel about trying to follow the seven-game series while on a family trip out West.

That was one thing, but...

...to all you fans out there, I must advise you, you can take this method of forced optimism too far.  

Heed my warning: If in response to your football team losing a second Superbowl in four years causes you to script and direct a short film with puppets beating the unholy hell out of each other, seek psychiatric assistance immediately - or at least until after you have completed your post-production work. Furthermore, if your theme revolves around the classic final scene of a 1982 boxing movie starring Sly Stallone, Carl Weathers, and Mr. T, I would suggest you shoot me an e-mail, because I probably already have a lot of the props and stuff you would need to get that done.

Labels: Aaron Rodgers, Eli Manning, Fighting, NFL, Peyton Manning, Puppets, Tom Brady