I don't know if that Texas kicker was trying to make me feel better about being as wrong as I was on the Stanford/USC game, but it sort of worked. I feel absolutely terrible for that kid, and it's always good to be reminded that someone is always having a worse day than you are.
There's a great ending to a Cheers episode, where the whole gang is moping around the bar after yet another defeat at the hands of Gary's Old Town Tavern, and everyone is down in the dumps, until suddenly, emerging from the back pool room are a pissed off Lilith, and a disheveled and begging Frasier, who has been in the marital doghouse for quite some time, and hasn't gotten any in ages. And as he follows her out the front door with a truly pathetic degree of grovelling, the whole bar takes note, looks at their collective situation, and everyone joins in on a rousing chorus of "We're not Frasier, We're not Frasier."
Happily enough, none of us is that poor Rose kid tonight in Austin, and sleep will likely come easier for us all.