A torturous Sunday on the couch

If you're anything like me, you tortured yourself for five hours on Sunday afternoon.

All right, so torture may be a strong word, but Sunday's Richmond basketball game and USA hockey game could have been taped, labeled and filed away in the heartbreak category. On the nicest afternoon of 2010, I spent five hours glued to a cheap apartment couch and got two big fat Ls to show for it.

The devastation started when David Gonzalvez hit a clutch 3-pointer for the Spiders to force overtime against Xavier University. Minutes later, tenacious Spider defense extended the game for another period. But alas, just as I had started to expect magic from the Spiders, they ran out of it and lost 78-76.

All was not lost, however, because the Gold Medal game had begun on NBC and the end of basketball gave way to the start of hockey. Two hours later, I exploded from my seat again as Zach Parise scored a game-tying goal with less than 30 seconds to go. But yet again, elation came too soon and America's golden dream came crashing down at the hands of Sidney Crosby, Canada's proudest son.

For a few minutes after the game, my friends and I just sat. We didn't speak, we didn't move, we just sat. Even my friend Quals, who talks more than an auctioneer on speed, was silent. It's rare for a group of eight friends to all root for the same teams, but on this day, that was the case. Unfortunately, there were no winners.

People say a win is a win and a loss is a loss, no matter how close or exciting a game is, but in these two games, both teams had reason to be proud. As a fan, it was nearly impossible to be upset with the American silver-medalists or the second-place Spiders.

Richmond went into Xavier's house and gave the Musketeers all they could handle. Leading scorer Kevin Anderson didn't have a single basket during the first half, and yet the Spiders trailed by only four at the break. Despite officiating that even the kindest analyst would have called questionable, Richmond still pushed the game into double overtime and had a shot to send it to a third. It wasn't a win, but as a Spider fan, I was still proud of the team's effort.

The same was true for Team USA. Also on the road, against a heavily favored foe that had been dreaming of Olympic hockey gold since the day Vancouver was awarded the Games, the Americans almost pulled a half-miracle. They played hard, they played smart and they found a way to stay even with the Canadians for more than 60 minutes. Parise's goal set Twitter ablaze with proud patriots who were inspired by the effort of the underdogs. Even in defeat, Team USA made its country proud.

And that's the beauty of sport. Sure, winning is one of the greatest feelings ever. There's nothing quite like hitting a game-winning jumper or listening to your country's national anthem with a gold medal hanging around your neck, but that can't happen unless someone suffers with a silver.

Without losing, winning wouldn't be nearly as sweet. Without feeling what it's like to fail, the joy of succeeding could not be as great. Even for a fan, years of losing make that one special season even more exhilarating.

So, yes, I tortured myself on Sunday, but I wouldn't have done anything differently even if I had known the pain I'd face. Watching the two teams we were all pulling for entertain the masses with last-second suspense made it feel OK to be a loser.

Imagine how the winners felt.