In 1987, I lived in Liverpool, New York, a solidly middle-class suburb of Syracuse. I was in the first grade at Morgan Road Elementary School, and in love with an orange blob named Otto.

I was about to turn 6 years old, impressionable, and the newish kid in town. We’d moved to the house on Caraway Drive over the summer of ’86, and I was still figuring things out in the neighborhood. I didn’t know what pinch-hitting was, or why kids would be mean to me, or why this new school was SO different from my old elementary school back in Holland, 3 hours away, just south of Buffalo.

But I did know that I liked watching sports with my dad in the evenings after he’d come home from a long day at his office and we’d all eat dinner together. He’d be in his recliner, and I’d sit on the floor in front of him. The carpet in that little den was a terrible orange-brown-red shag thing that was a terrible remnant of the decade during which the house had been built.

What my dad and I watched was Syracuse Orangemen basketball, and to be watching them in 1987 was a fine thing indeed. They won their first 15 games, surprising everyone, even the most staunch of fans, as expectations had been tempered due to the departure of 1986 star Pearl Washington.

Sherman Douglas, Rony Seikaly, a young Derrick Coleman, Greg Monroe and Howard Triche were a surprising but dynamic starting 5, effective with Coach Boeheim’s zone-defense, and capable of scoring a lot of points in a hurry. They were fun to watch, and of the 5 games they lost in the regular season, all but one were really close, so it made for great father-son entertainment.

And they had Otto, their friendly-looking orange biped blob mascot.

After winning the regular season Big East title, they lost in the conference championship to Georgetown. It was a temporary downer, as the Orangemen still got a decent seed in the NCAA tournament. They would go on to beat Georgia Southern, Western Kentucky, Florida in the Sweet 16, and heavily favored North Carolina in the Elite 8. They looked unstoppable.

Big East rival Providence stood in the way in the first leg of the Final Four, and the Orangemen made short work of the Friars. Finally, it came down to the Indiana Hoosiers, Bobby Knight, and Keith F$cking Smart.

Indiana won in the final seconds and my heart broke for the first time as a sports fan. It would be broken many, many more times, as is the custom for fans of Western New York teams: Wide Right, No Goal, and on and on and on…

Syracuse got sweet redemption in 2003, but it rang a bit hollow for me as I watched the game alone in my girlfriend’s living room in Granville, Ohio. The physical distance between me and my dad’s enthusiasm back in New York just left me underwhelmed and feeling like an outsider again.

So it was with acute perspective I watched the parallels unfold for my 2.5 year old daughter over the last few weeks. Since we moved to Columbus over the summer of 2014, I watched firsthand as the indoctrination of Buckeye Nation began in earnest at the daycares and preschools of Central Ohio. I’ll give ’em credit: they hook ’em young around here.

Imagine my surprise in late August when Harper announced from her car seat after school one day, “Go Buckeyes!” At first I fought it, but then I decided, “You know what? When in Rome…” I remembered that I was once the new kid and that it felt good to cheer together with your new comrades when you’re in a new city. So who was I to stand in her way?

Fast forward to Monday, January 12, 2015. Harper has been telling us to “say Go Buckeyes!” all weekend long, and I’m starting to buy into her mantra. We let her watch the first quarter, and when I see that they’re winning at the end of that first quarter, I tell her that they have won and she’ll get to celebrate with her friends at school in the morning.

Incidentally, I used to not give a lot of thought to bedtimes in relation to sporting event start times. I think a lot about that now.

Well after midnight, I was relieved to see I didn’t end up lying to my daughter. I’m glad Ohio State won. I like that I finally got to break the cycle and I now know what it is to live in a city that won something – something that is a big deal. I like that it surrounds her – and me – with a feeling of happiness that permeates the entire community in which we live.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be a “Buckeye Fan” – I just don’t care the same way “real fans” seem to care. I want them to win because it is good for our community, it is good for my business, and it makes my daughter happy.

I’m not a big “Life is Wins and Losses” kind of guy because I’ve been cheering for the sad locker room my entire life and we losers don’t like to be reminded of the standings.

And I know that Harper has to learn – and will inevitably learn – that losing gracefully is part of life.

But not yet.