C'mon on, admit it, you have one too - a tipping point. Call it a Colambaris.
It's not an online SportsBet account but a moment that sees you explode like a blackhead when squeezed on a teenager's face. Blow a fuse. Lose ya narna. Dummy spit. Crack the shits. Go off like mum's undies. You know the drill.
So how do you bottle those spontaneous eruptions? Well, a win against the Titans ensures Vesuvius will not spew in the short term. At least for another week, testosterone-fuelled fury is replaced with love juice coursing through your veins. All is well with the world. Leaving Kogarah you're tempted to throw your arm around others in the red and white herd. You love the crowd, the coach, the ref, even the Bengal lancers.
If you're unlucky, tipping points can be reached in 26 consecutive weeks. When Duges refuses to pass the pill, the team lets a 10 point lead vanish with 7 mins left on the clock, or the left edge defence leaks points faster than you can say 2010 Premiers! Well, that's a Tipping Point trifecta.
I experience one messy episode this season when the Roosters plucked the game at the death and The Anzac Cup was theirs for another year. Surrounded by chooks, it was the one in front that really ruffled my feathers. A mini me he was, a chip off his old man's block beside him. No courtesy from the winners, just a "sucked in" verbal tirade and a finger salute from them as I scurried for the exits, not before demanding he pull his ugly head in.
"Where the hell did that come from" you say to yourself. "It's so not me," you ponder. But there in lies the passion. You might never have played the game but it matters not. Somewhere in your ancestry, you've laced on a boot, carried the oranges or lashed pads on goal posts out bush. No-one, not your wife, husband, girlfriend, boyfriend, sister, brother, nephew, niece, granny, grandpa or even great aunt dolly truly knows what it feels like to claim "that's my team."
I call it a 'Colombaris moment'. A time when push becomes shove and you give a gob full or a floppy stiff arm in the direction of the protagonist who has touched the nerve directly linked to the fortunes of the team you bleed for.
Your 'Mates' are masters at touching a tipping point. They're are often the ones who hold no allegiance to one NRL team, preferring to to hedge their bets across two or three, sometimes four sides in the comp. Pussies. You only hear from them when your side is on the skids.
One question remains: will you reach your tipping point tonight against the show pony Broncs? With the man flu on the march throughout the red and white sheds, things aren't looking too bright..
But when a place in the eight is at stake, where there's smoke there's fire!
Better turn your phone off just in case your mates ring you.