I have been diagnosed with Homeritis since I came squealing into the Land of the Living that fateful summer day in '92. Nobody could do anything about my affliction; I was born into a hereditary disease that can't be curable, no matter the excellent credentials of the shrinks that I have been recommended to. Perhaps it's because everyone in my family are infected as well. After all, it's kinda pathogenic. If you'd been forced into a Redskin cheerleading outfit at the tender age of 3, you'd understand. It's an exceptional art form of brainwashing for the right cause!
Now, I'm not saying that Homeritis is a healthy disease. In fact, it makes some (note some) people very ill. Here are some symptoms to look for:
1) The worst case scenario on this planet is for you to miss a single game whether it is on TV, radio, or live.
2) You'd rather eat horse apples and slowly tortured with the pain of a thousand suns than pledge allegiance to another team.
3) You feel awful, depraved, sadistic, inconsolable, grouchy, broke, enraged, depressed and in need of plenty of Prozac during the off-season.
4) You develop an intense psychological disorder that makes you think that because you're the best fan of your team, you're the lucky charm that makes ‘em win.
5) Forget gold-paved streets and singing angels- you've got heaven with a 1,000 dollar club seat and the team marching band!
6) Sometimes, when you're pushed to the edge, you resort to ad hominem (oh gawd) just to defend your homer pride.
7) You empty your bank account on team memorabilia.
8) You lose TD's because you cannot branch out your mind to be an expert on other teams' stats unless that team is playing your team this Thurs./Sun./Mon.
9) Countless of hours of your life is wasted upon dreaming about the day you become your team's owner and all the reforms you wish to do.
10) If God went all Job on your life and told you that you can either live without your team or die with your team still living, you'd choose to die because you'll be a martyr for your team's cause. Besides, what good will your life be without them?
11) BONUS- INTO THE MIND OF A HOMER: "It is understood like a one as the coefficient of a lonely positive x or y that almost nothing in this world means more to me than the Washington Redskins. I love the team colors (it's the ultimate combo: deep and rich burgundy of wine and the golden color of cheese), I love the team players, coaches and staff (well, most), and I breath every single breath because I love being a Redskin fan. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, will be able to stray me away from my team. Bring on all your BS, Cowboy/Eagles/Giants fans, along with those Redskin haters out there, but this fortified fortress of homerism ain't fallin' down."
Mmkay, now that I've got that out of my system... oooh, excuse me.
So, back to the topic. Ah, yes, the dreaded malady of Homeritis. Having Homeritis is not necessarily a good thing, as I have mentioned earlier. Only fair few people can control it, much like those unfortunate enough to have Diabetes Type B ("Yummm, more Twix, Carbs, anything sugar-y!"). In fact, Homeritis can take over, not just your mind, but your heart and soul. It can corrupt and make a black hole so big that it consumes your very being. Some people can take their gift of loyalty into a rampant mass of terror. These people are the ones that rightfully earn that Durrell Award. They are prime examples of why the stupid sportsmanship conduct in school is so adamantly enforced.
My advice to these fallen homers: please cool it! I feel your love for your team, but it isn't good if you obnoxiously flaunt it, and the key word here is obnoxious. Before you say something to other people, practice sayin' that to your momma or your grandmomma first. You don't want your grandma hearing you saying, "Bull S! Bull S! Bull S!" at the top of your lungs after a bad call by the Zebras, do you? Maybe that'll help a little with this bug that we're forever stuck with. After all, it is a disease you cannot rid of. We might as well live with it as best we can.
If y'all don't project Homeritis the way it should be in public (thus ruining the reputation of the good homers), then I'll be after you with my pitchfork and feed you to a certain polar bear.