I may lose a large portion of my readership with the following confession. To whomever is offended, I cannot play the coward any longer.

The truth began to leak out when I had invited some gal pals on a Haunted History Tour in Jacksonville. Denise, Kay, Lynn and I planned to have dinner at Bella Union beforehand. It all sounded quite lovely.

Then, Denise informed me that it was her night for book club and they were reviewing her selection. Could we trade the tickets for Saturday night? Well, I’m all for books and clubs and reading and what not, so I phoned Carolyn Kingsnorth — Jacksonville history tours guru — and she made the swap.

All was well, until, that is, I checked my calendar which did not have the Oregon Ducks— Ohio State Buckeyes football game listed. It was the biggest game for Oregon during the regular season. How in the wide, wide world of fumbles could I have failed to notice?

When I mentioned that I’d mistakenly switched the tour not realizing the game was that night, I think my friends said, “Wait, what?” then collectively rolled their eyes behind my back creating a seismic shift, but they were polite.

They didn’t berate me to my face or question my sanity. The secret had emerged within the dark reality that I would miss the most exciting game of the season. The ghostly tour could not compare with the haunting realization of my oversight.

During the walking tour, I checked my phone for the score whenever we passed beneath a street lamp. I could hardly believe how the score kept going back and forth. I felt sick.

It got so bad that after the tour, I hustled Denise into Bella Union where the place was packed but the game was on. There was nowhere to sit so we stood smack in the way as we watched the nail-biting ending and the ultimate one-point win over Ohio State.

So, don’t place me in a box.

Everyone knows I love cats, symphonies, jazz, art, theater, the coast, chips, and now it is public knowledge that I love a good football romp.

I’m downright ashamed as I gleefully witness the opposing team getting pummeled.I have asked myself from where does that feeling of satisfying aggression stem? Do I have some latent maniacal tendency? Someday I’ll share deep, philosophical musings on the subject.

At times, it isn’t pretty. I have sent cats sailing when I whoop over an Oregon interception. I have stormed out of the room in disgust at the 10th Duck penalty of the game. I mean, why gift yardage, you know?

I know I’m not alone in this.

I grew up watching football with Dad, who didn’t exactly exhibit a monkish attitude when disappointed with a play.

So, last week Oregon taught Washington the truth. After losing two heartbreakers to the Huskies last year by three points each, including the conference playoff, “we” showed them with a solid and definite 49-21 victory, and on senior night.

But, Demond Williams Jr. Can I just say, that brave and vulnerable true freshman quarterback for the Dawgs had been set on a national stage for the first time in his career against the No. 1 team in the country. Though he showed amazing potential, I still wonder what he did to deserve that kind of gladiator experience.

He should have worn a shield and carried a mace.

He wasn’t just sacked. It was a sack party — a sack attack. That kid was sacked 10, count them, 10 times. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and now I really am proving out my Neanderthal ancestry. Every time I looked up, he was being rolled to the ground by a different Oregon defender. I felt for his mother and wondered if she was able to watch.

So, there you go. I have exposed a dark side. This Saturday is the Big10 Conference Championship game. It’s also the Christmas season with many jolly holiday happenings jingling for my attention, but Saturday evening will find me at home watching the Oregon Ducks take on the Penn State Nittany Lions. Eddie and Cricket have been forewarned.

The Oregon Ducks have been around for over 130 years. That makes watching them an exercise in continuing history studies, doesn’t it? One should never stop learning.