I have been a sports fan since I was about six years old and as a youngster did not handle my favorite teams losing--tears, yelling, mild swearing, thrashing, shouts to the heavens, and cries of "why didn't ___ happen" were a common occurrence. When my wife and I had a daughter, I hoped that she would become a sports fan, and have been pleased that she has at a young age. She even is showing some decent five-year-old soccer skills (ironic, since that was long the sport that I just did not get).
Well, the family connection became very clear with the US loss to Japan in the Women's World Cup Final today, which precipitated a crying meltdown for the ages. Being more dramatic than I was, hers even got somewhat existential--wondering why she had been born, why she bothered watching, and threatening never to play or watch soccer again (the last part passed quickly and she is looking forward to attending FIU women's games in the fall).
It obviously hurt to see her that upset. But a small part of me felt a twinge of happiness and pride that she has developed such a passion for this.