Ok, so, first of all, I understand that we all have different ways of coping with pain. It’s totally reasonable to feel intense, almost unbearable emotion after that gut-punch of a game. We have been living the fairy tale comeback story for half of the season, and it seemed that the football god still loved us. To have it snatched at the last possible second by a rookie cornerback on a now hotly debated play call put every fan, fair-weather or devoted, into physical agony. But to leap up and rip down a flag that is not yours from it’s pole, well sir, may your sleep be troubled and your future dim. You do not deserve to root for this team. And while the security footage only caught part of your weak, soulless face, and it’s a little difficult to know exactly who you are, I’ll know you by that jacket. Lucky for you, this is the best shot I could get of you, and there will be a bigger flag, because next year we will be better. Screw you, flag vandal, you sad bastard. Try and reach the next one when it flies proudly, fifteen feet over your head.