As a sports fan, autumn is the season dreams are made of. It is our last call before the disheartening return of icy winds and the lethargy of shortened days.

How can the outside world hurt us when we are inside curled up on our couches watching the pennant race in Major League Baseball, college football on Saturday, pro football on Sunday and Monday, along with the NHL and the NBA?

How can we complain when after months of boring “SportCenters” and sports talk shows over the summer, we are finally graced with highlight reels depicting feats from four professional sports and graced with sports columnists raging about who’s going to win the World Series and if USC will ever lose?

The unfortunate luck of a good friend rooting for all the wrong teams is the only thing that can improve an autumn week. Make fun of him for all it’s worth because you know it’s happened to you before.

Fortunately for me, my friend Paul is having such a week.

Paul is from the wonderful state of New Jersey. He roots for teams out of the Big Apple, and for some odd reason, he roots for Notre Dame football when it comes to the college ranks. (Why? I don’t know. He claims to have rooted for them his entire life).

Last weekend started out great for Paul. Notre Dame was on stride against the top-ranked Trojans and the game was being hyped to epic proportions. It was the perfect setting for the downfall of USC’s dominance and many sports analysts thought it was going to happen.

Paul knew it was going to happen. He didn’t think it. He knew it. He knew it right up to the very end of the game when, like every other Notre Dame fan in the country, he prematurely jumped for joy before getting smashed back down to Earth.

I didn’t care who won the game but had a blast leaving a few jibes via instant messenger about what a wonderful Saturday afternoon I was having. I returned to see a couple expletives glowing on my computer screen.

Loss number one of the week for dear Paul.

After going out Saturday night in an attempt to forget the pain, Paul woke up Sunday morning to read that the Devils, the only team from Jersey that he roots for, got smoked by the Hurricanes 6-1 in its second lopsided loss in a row.

Everybody point and laugh. Loss number two.

Fortunately for Paul, his Giants were playing the Cowboys, and he was once again sure that Eli would pull through and the Giants would maintain their first place status in the NFC East.

After returning from work that evening, he was not too happy to find out that the Giants managed to lose the game in overtime after coming back and tying the game with 19 seconds left in the fourth quarter. I couldn’t imagine it felt any better to read about how the Cowboys won despite turning the ball over four times and missing two field goals.

“So Paul, how bout them Giants?”

That’s all it took Monday morning to get him started. Loss number three.

The end of the weekend didn’t mark the end of the losing. We’ve only covered three leagues that are playing. Of course it’s not over.

While doing a little homework Tuesday, I was hit with another instant message: “Yo, my week got worse…Heredia (relief pitcher for the Mets) got caught with steroids.”

Paul is a masochist and picked the hapless Mets over the powerhouse Yankees when choosing who to root for as a kid. I used to sympathize, because I too am a fairweather Mets fan, but now I think it’s funny.

P‚rdida numero cuatro.

And finally that brings us to the NBA preseason where the Knicks (Paul hates the Nets) got pummeled Tuesday night by the Iverson and Webber-less Sixers 114-99.

Loss number five and better luck next time. For it is a sports fan’s season. More chances to play, more chances to win. Adieu.

Josh George is a senior in Communications. He can be reached at [email protected].