Last weekend, I attended my 12-year-old cousin's championship football game, and it was kind of a frightening experience.

The score had been tied at zero for the first half. Then, in the third quarter, the opposing team finally made a touchdown and then kicked for two extra points. Their fans rejoiced to an almost ridiculous degree.

A group of three moms jumped up and down and hugged each other, almost in hysterics while shouting their joy: "We're going to win!" Fans frantically clapped and waved noisemakers. Even a group of elementary school children got in on the action, crazily chanting "touchdown!" after witnessing the small victory.

As I gazed at the teams, composed of fresh-faced 11 and 12-year-olds, I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

I exchanged bewildered looks with my group of football game attendees: Was this glut of sports adoration really happening? Should such excessive pressure to win be placed on these young kids?

Nevertheless, it really was happening, and it served as some minor insight into the pervasive must-win sports culture that seems to be present wherever I turn.

At this point, perhaps I should explain a little about my background: Without an athletic bone in my body, I don't play, seldom watch and rarely enjoy sports. I was the girl who dreaded gym class and the horrors that accompanied it -- getting struck by a swiftly-thrown dodgeball, getting kicked in the face during a game of soccer (yes, that actually happened).

Still, I understand that I'm clearly in the minority: Sports are popular with an overwhelming amount of people. And I certainly have my own interests and hobbies to which I devote a great deal of time.

But no matter how hard I try to resist it, the sports obsession seems to be rampant everywhere I go. I'm from Pittsburgh, where priests have been known to deliver hurried homilies at noon mass to allow everyone to get home in time for the Steelers' 1 p.m. kickoff. I came to Penn State fully aware of the sports culture that awaited me -- but little did I know, the atmosphere was far more pronounced than expected.

This weekend's festivities after Penn State plays Ohio State may provide a prime example of this culture. I don't know what's going to happen or not happen, but I definitely remember what ensued after last year's Penn State victory.

The crowd of about 5,000 students who inundated Beaver Canyon created about $10,000 in damage, The Daily Collegian reported. Students uprooted shrubbery, damaged cars and tore down lampposts and parking meters, all while resisting police officers' orders to get out of the streets. Eventually, the police had to subdue the crowd with pepper spray.

Maybe I can't completely understand this behavior because I'm not a sports fan, but I don't see why enjoying a sport has to be so injurious: physically, as it was right here at Penn State; or verbally, as I saw at my cousin's football game.

It's fine to celebrate a victory or bemoan a loss, but do we have to take it all so seriously? It's a game. Spoken like a true sports neophyte, that's for sure -- but it's still something to consider, though I don't suspect anything will change.

I don't think my allegiances will be shifting anytime soon, either. Come Saturday evening, win or lose, you won't find me in Beaver Canyon. However, I'll be holding out hope that the aftershocks of last year's so-called merriment have woken up some of my fellow students. I think it's possible to love the sport without exercising the attitude.