YouTuber Scooter Magruder Captured What Every Cowboys Fan Felt on Sunday

Sunday's home opener, in which the Tampa Bay Buccaneers decimated the Dallas Cowboys 19-3, was one of those games that can make fans feel a twinge of pain in their gut.

Even the non-followers can imagine the embarrassment of having to call a major league sports franchise their team when all that the players and staff could muster in the first game of the season was a lousy field goal. It's the NFL equivalent of a little league soccer team letting a shutout underdog score a goal even if they'd accidentally scored it against themselves.

Now just imagine how the diehard fans feel in the shadow of such an embarrassing performance. YouTuber and Dallas Cowboys fan Cameron "Scooter" Magruder captured every emotion from almost every moment of Sunday's game in his latest video, and there are some moments worth breaking down so everyone can learn from them.  The feelings from such a heartbreaking loss are often mirrored in Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' five stages of grief, a psychological foundation that all Cowboys fans know by heart because they've gone through them so many times.

The problem is that the Cowboys' fan base doesn't experience these stages one at a time during a season. They experience them in an assortment of orders and over and over again. It's like grieving the loss of a loved one whose corpse keeps reanimating and dying again and again.

Here are some of those moments told through Scooter's characterizations, and the grief stage they represent so you can identify and avoid the anguish of another long, painful season of disappointment.

"I'm so glad football's back."
Stage: Denial
Every season starts the same, and it doesn't matter how bad the last one was before the new one has started. Acknowledging just an ounce of hope in your heart can lead to crushing disappointment. Who can blame the victim? Just about anyone would hang onto the smallest sliver of hope if they thought it would lead to Stephen A. Smith having to put one of his tiny feet in his big mouth.

"Can we stop running trick plays for [running back Tony] Pollard? Can we just hand him the ball?"
Stage: Anger
Trick plays work out one of two ways: spectacularly well or bad enough to merit anxiety medication. They scream of desperation and depression. You might as well have a Nirvana tribute band sing the National Anthem.

"How much help does [quarterback] Tom Brady need?"
Stage: Anger moving into bargaining
Don't ask a question to which you don't wanna hear the answer. You're not helping anyone, least of all yourself. All you're doing is giving yourself more reasons to eat a whole bowl of Rotel queso while staring at a blank wall after the game.

"We keep stopping them when it matters."
Stage: Bargaining
When you're in this moment, ask yourself how you could possibly know how every tiny play would affect the overall outcome. If a voice answers back, seek help immediately.

"If we would've signed [Tampa Bay wide receiver] Julio Jones, we wouldn't have these problems right now. We'd probably be winning."
Stage: Still bargaining
C'mon. One player cannot carry an entire team unless he or she is the secret identity of a Marvel superhero. That doesn't even happen in the movies. Sure, Air Bud may be a dog who can play basketball, but he's still a dog who plays on a team. There is no "dog" in "team."

"How many penalties are we supposed to get? I thought were disciplined now!"
Stage: Bargaining moving back toward anger
This feeling usually creeps up in the late third or early fourth quarter when the refs' flags get thrown like stack of plates at a Greek wedding. Make sure the discontentment is moving toward acceptance and not back toward anger, or you'll just end up in another emotional loop. There's a reason refs throw flags. At some point, one team will need something with which to dab their crying eyes and blow their noses.

"And we turned it over on fourth down. I'm about to turn this game off. I didn't sign up for this!"
Stage: Bargaining just recovering from almost going to anger by veering into depression
We know. It hurts. Watching your team lose the ball on fourth down by any means beside punting feels like a swift kick to the brain. It's not the kind of pain you can just walk off, like a freshman who's told to take a lap by a football coach who thinks running can magically cure a compound fracture.

"This is gonna be a long season. I missed House of the Dragon for this?"
Stage: Acceptance while moving back to denial unless suicide occurs
The only thing sadder than a loss is moving on to another one. It's why we eat candy when we're sad or nap in the middle of the day to take a break from consciousness. We all do it. You think, "Well, my team lost but at least I have that new Game of Thrones to look forward to, and that's never disappointed me."