Sometimes it's appropriate. For example, I have sympathy for Otago rugby supporters who have waited 54 years for the blue and golds to regain the Ranfurly Shield.
Other times it's pathetic: the Canberra Raiders haven't won the NRL since 1994. Oh, the poor babies.
And then, very occasionally, the term is so woefully inadequate as to require a complete retooling of the English language. This leads me to my team, Major League Baseball's Chicago Cubs.
There are four stages of fandom to disciples of the Cubbies:
1. Naive optimism: Why can't we win? We have plenty of money, our players are as talented as the next team's and we play in baseball's loveliest stadium, historic, ivy-covered Wrigley Field. This is the stage at which lifelong Cubs fans shake their heads at each other. Isn't the young guy cute? He really doesn't have a clue, does he?
2. Shrill pleading: Oh, come on! Not another year of mediocrity? Surely the baseball gods can't be this cruel? We can't really be cursed, can we? Our little man is growing up. Soon we can trust him to carry the torch for future Cubs fans.
3. Volcanic anger: "Fire the manager! Change the owner! Our first baseman couldn't hit my grandmother's curve ball! How come he was so good when he played for the Yankees? Mommy, why is that man crying in the corner? Be quiet, Jimmy. Just move slowly to me and don't make any sudden movements.
4. Bitter and twisted stubbornness: Change to another team? No way, damn it. When we finally win, my loyalty over all of these years is going to be rewarded. He sounds just like Sam. You were one of Sam's pallbearers, weren't you? Yeah, Sam was a great guy.
And why all this doom and gloom? The answer is 1908. That was a year in which horses were still the world's most common form of transportation, a year when the Wright Brothers were working to perfect their recent invention of the airplane,and two years before construction even began on the ill-fated Titanic. And it is the last year the Cubbies won baseball's holy grail, the World Series.
In the years since that time, occasional beacons of hope have emerged in Cubbiedom. All were snuffed out cruelly by an unfeeling and unloving God.
In the 37 years following 1908, we did qualify for seven World Series but were beaten convincingly each time. During our most recent appearance in 1945, a disgruntled fan cursed the Cubs in perpetuity when he was asked to remove his pet goat from the stands during game four.
Many attempts have been made over the years to lift the Curse of the Billy Goat, with counter-spells, witchdoctors and exorcisms being tried. And, in 2003 (the Year of the Goat), it appeared briefly that the curse had been transferred to the Houston Astros. Sadly, though, the correct incantation has yet to be found.
In 1969, another animal was involved in a stereotypical Cubs meltdown. A black cat appeared out of the stands in a late-season game with our closest rivals and sauntered past the Cubs' dugout. This proved a portent of a cataclysmic collapse that turned an eight-game lead late in the season into another winter of heartbreak.
However, all of these setbacks pale into insignificance compared to the Bartman incident of 2003. A mighty late-season surge saw the Cubs sneak past the fading (goat-cursed) Astros, and this was followed by a win in the first round of the playoffs, the first post-season series the Cubs had survived since the aforementioned 1908.
Hoping against hope, for the first time in living memory, fans enjoying the rapture of Stage 1 of Cubs fandom were drowning out the sage warnings of their elders in (terminal) Stage 4. And when young pitching ace Mark Prior led the Cubs to a 3-0 lead late in game six, we were five outs from the promised land of World Series respectability.
That is when Steve Bartman entered the stage. Chasing the individual glory of catching a foul ball during a playoff game, the young Cubs fan eschewed the interests of the team and deflected a descending fly ball away from the sure hands of left fielder Moises Alou.
Twenty minutes later, our 3-0 lead was an 8-3 deficit. The next night, the Cubs lost the decisive game seven and 95 years of futility clicked over to at least 96 (now, as I write this, 103).
It might be immature, it might be insignificant on a cosmic scale, but the night of Bartman remains seared in my mind and that of most Cubs fans. It is the night this late Stage 2 Cubs fan bypassed Stage 3 completely for an existence lodged in the depths of Stage 4.
It is the most recent night of my adult life where I can remember crying not misty eyes, not a single tear streaming down my face, but full scale bawling.
Hopefully, there are happier memories ahead. Hopefully, someone can find a cure for this disease, some kind of therapy or immunisation that leaves Cubs fans permanently in the rapture of Stage 1. Or, better yet, we can find a few players who can hit or pitch when the chips are down.
But, until that time, I can only remember the words of the late Chicago newspaper columnist and Cubs fan, Mike Royko. Mike said: "Some people believe that the glass is half empty, some believe that it's half full. A Cubs fan always wonders when its going to spill."
Peter Speck
Analyst
• Team: Chicago Cubs
• Sport: Baseball
• Fan since: 1989.
• Favourite player: Mark Grace (hitter) and Greg Maddux (pitcher).
• Greatest moment: August 29, 1989 - Cubs come from 9-0 down versus Houston Astros to win 10-9 in 10 innings.
• Been to Wrigley Field?: Of course.
