Sunday was Bid Day, one of the most celebrated days of the entire year for Greek students. Being a fraternity member and experiencing Bid Day for the third time, I expected Sunday to go down as one of my favorite days of college. Instead, I’ll remember Aug. 24, 2014 not as a great day filled with good times with my friends, but as the hardest day of my career as a Rams fan.

I had just returned to my room from Greek Town when I got a phone call from my friend Carter. I answered the phone and all he said was, “Schmidt…Sam…”

I immediately hung up. I pulled up Twitter on my phone. On Saturday night against the Browns, Rams starting quarterback Sam Bradford had gone down with an injury to his knee. It was the same knee that he injured in week seven of last season, sidelining him for the remainder of the year. Reporters had said he’d been in good spirits in the locker room following the Browns game, that he had been walking under his own power. Sam was fine. Sam _had_ to be fine.

But Twitter confirmed something I’d been in denial about for nearly ten years. The Rams are cursed. Bradford had torn his ACL. He was out for the year.

This was the year everything was supposed to come together for the Rams. We have the best defensive line in the league. Our running game was one of the best in the league last year from week five to the end of the season, and we drafted Tre Mason, a running back out of Auburn who was a Heisman finalist. Bradford had had a great training camp. Richard Sherman, the outspoken All-World Seattle Seahawks cornerback, had gone on record saying that the Rams were the team that scared him most in the NFC West. For the first time since the fifth grade, I was confident we were going over .500 and headed to the playoffs.

But there I was in my room Sunday, crying on the phone with my friend Tommy over a 26-year-old male neither of us had ever met.

I spent the rest of Sunday receiving emotional phone calls, texts and tweets from friends and fellow fans as I walked around my house draped in my Rams bedsheets.

The Rams are like an ex that you get back together with time and time again, each time more convinced that they’ve changed since the last. I have no idea where my relationship with the Rams goes from here. They have hurt me so many times in the past and, each time, I have reluctantly welcomed them back, promising myself to cut ties if it gets any worse. It doesn’t get any worse than this.

Your friends mock you, call you an idiot. But you firmly believe that the two of you were meant to be together. Now, the Rams have left me at the altar and caused me emotional pain that hasn’t been felt in the sports world since Steve Bartman.

At what point do you admit that the two of you are not meant for each other, and wish they would just move to another city?