IT̢۪S TIME FOR US TO COME BACK HOME, GUYS.

In the past few weeks, I̢۪ve written several articles exploring my strained relationship with the world of sports, even with our own Bulldogs.

In response to the last of these, a column about my trip to UCLA, my good friend and Collegian colleague Juan Villa told me he was shocked. He also suggested that my streak would probably end at one.

And he was right, I didn’t go to last week’s game. I don’t have tickets for this week either, but I’ll likely be watching or listening to the game, wherever I am, whatever I’m doing — I usually do.

Because even though I get nostalgic about the home games I attended when I was younger, something holds me back. Something about the consistency of the team, a team that, in 2005, gave the number one team in the country a run for their money, and then proceeded to lose every single game for the rest of the season.

This year, the pattern doesn̢۪t seem to be much different, particularly after last week̢۪s enormously disappointing loss to Hawaii, a loss that leaves the ̢۪Dogs win-less at home this season.

The team and I, we̢۪re both paradoxes. Even while I demonstrate interest in the success of the Bulldogs, I can̢۪t bring myself to come out to games on a regular basis.

And even while the Bulldogs demonstrate so much potential against formidable opponents, they can̢۪t manage to beat teams most people in the country think they should be beating. It may be too late for me, but this weekend is Homecoming.

This weekend, the ̢۪Dogs are playing a team that has given up no fewer than 42 points, five out of the last six weeks. This should be the weekend.

We̢۪re Little Bo Peep̢۪s little lost sheep, but we̢۪ve been left alone, wandering long enough.

And it̢۪s time to come home.