Some losing streaks really are worse than others.

If you think the Cubs' 95-year drought is tougher to swallow than a horse pill, consider a two-year losing streak that makes the Cubs' streak look like a Children's Tylenol tablet.

For each of the past two years, friends of mine have lost. Not an intramural football game. Not the Super Bowl. They have lost their dads. Gulp.

Talk about a gigantic, sobering injection of perspective into my sports-obsessed world. For everything truly wonderful about sports, for the displays of will and the moments of jubilance, sometimes sports just aren't that important.

Tuesday was one of those times.

It marked the second school year in a row that a friend was faced with saying goodbye to his father, a central figure in his life. It's a task that makes a last second, game-tying free throw attempt in Game Seven of the NBA Finals look like child's play.

So when the Cubs squeaked by the Expos, and the White Sox won their second straight against the Twins, and the playoff buzz in Chicago could be felt all the way down here in Champaign, I suddenly didn't care.

When Carlos Zambrano looked up and pointed to the sky after narrowly escaping a bases-loaded situation in the sixth inning, I couldn't help but think of my friend's father.

And when Sox announcer Ken Harrelson used his classic phrase, "He's gone!" to describe a member of the Twins striking out, my mind again wandered. It dawned on me, that phrase is so temporary.

I started thinking about Barry Bonds, the man and not the player, a subject matter that I previously couldn't have cared less about. Bonds' father, Bobby, recently died of cancer. Bonds did the right thing in taking a leave of absence from the team to spend time with his dad before he passed away. Even if you are not a Bonds fan, you have to commend him for having his priorities in order.

You see, sometimes sports just aren't that important.

Today actually marks the two-year anniversary of the first time that I realized this.

When those planes crashed in 2001, I was in the midst of obsessing over the young college football season. I was complaining about a recent bad haircut. Those attacks opened my eyes.

All that I cared about was getting in touch with my family. Luckily, I had my sister here. Seeing her face that day made for a spectacular feeling that no championship victory could touch with a 10-foot pole.

As clichÈ as it sounds, sports really are just a distraction, a chance to put reality on hold for a while. Life is filled with distractions like this, some good and some not so good. The problem is that we tend to let our distractions hold too much weight in our lives. Often, we neglect the people that really making living worthwhile.

Then, we are smacked in the face by some event — or two or three — and it reminds us of what really matters.

It becomes clear that family will always stand atop the podium of life. Friends will be a close step down. And if you're like me, sports will be a distant third.

And that's the way it should be.

Because sometimes sports just aren't that important.

Josh Purse is a junior in communications. He can be reached at sports@dailyillini.com