Isn't football such an event?
Listen to the philosopher's lament,
Old Socrates barracked for his team,
In the AFL, worst you've ever seen,
Socrates gazed at the replay,
Groaned, "We lost again!"
So he drank hemlock and gin,
Slit his wrists, did himself in,
Drowned in his phony spa,
His ghost calls down from afar,
"The premiership is what is meant!"
Woe, Socrates' eternal lament!