They say there’s one in every family. You know, the one who takes the game just a little too seriously, who is prone to overreaction and spontaneous displays of rage, and is in general labeled a “crazed” sports fan.

That would be me, though I prefer to be called “passionate.”

In a column last semester, I referenced the time I threw my cell phone at DU’s hardwood floor after watching Andy Roddick lose to John Isner in the third round of the 2009 US Open. Now, I would love to say this was an isolated occurrence –– an accidental moment of weakness, if you will –– but the fact of the matter is ... this happens a lot. And not just with cell phones, though admittedly my iPhone does tend to be my projectile of choice (reason No. 172 why iPhones are infinitely better than BlackBerries. BlackBerries just wouldn’t be able to handle my life).

Basically, I like to throw things when I’m angry. You can blame the Italian half of me. I get very emotionally invested in situations I can’t control –– namely sports –– and I react. In fact, a week before the aforementioned incident, I actually broke my MacBook’s hard drive when I slammed it on a desk after realizing that Roddick and R. Fed were seeded on the same side of the Open draw. (Sorry Dad, I might have left out that small detail when explaining to you why I needed a new hard drive).

So it’s a bit ironic that I want to go into sports journalism, the one industry where I can’t openly flaunt my affiliation with a team by cheering or projecting any emotion whatsoever.

Even reporting at the college level, this whole “be objective” thing has taken some getting used to.

When a game has me on edge and I’m sitting press row, there’s no occasion for me to chuck my cell phone at the court. Instead, I attempt to calm my nerves by rapid-fire clicking a clicky pen. Granted it’s not as great for channelling aggression as throwing inanimate objects, but it’s something. Three weeks ago at Penn, there was a lot of pen-clicking going on (no pun intended). Though at least Zack Rosen was spared the impact of my cell phone and/or water bottle connecting with his head.

That’s not to say I don’t cheer for Cornell basketball, because I most certainly do ... just maybe not to the extent as someone like Justin Potter. My cheering is a bit more, shall we say, internal. And subtle. Or so I thought.

A couple of weeks ago, The Sun’s public editor raised the (valid) concern that I was coming across as “too much of a fan” with my live-blogging/tweeting of Cornell basketball games. I have to admit, he had a point. After all, despite being a college newspaper, we are still held to certain journalistic standards, including the need for objectivity. At the same time, however, working for The CORNELL Daily Sun –– particularly the sports department –– I feel like our coverage is understood to be inherently biased.

For instance, I’m not going to spend an entire article quoting Tommy Amaker and some rando on Harvard’s basketball team, when I know for a fact that Cornell students would rather hear from Cornell’s coach and Cornell’s players.

Nevertheless, I took his opinion to heart and promised to tone down the sarcastic comments and exclamation points. Unfortunately, this reprimand came the night before Cornell played Harvard in Cambridge –– talk about inconvenient timing. So, I had to refrain from tweeting/blogging snarky commentary to the Cornellians following back home, while a sea of delusional Harvard fans wearing all white (and later all black ... don’t ask) stood behind me frantically waving mounted copies of Jeremy Lin’s senior portrait. I felt like I was at some sort of fascist rally, not an Ivy League basketball game.

[As an irrelevant, albeit crucial detail ... I must point out these Jeremy Lin mug shots were made (and distributed) by none other than the boy’s mother. Make of that what you will].

And on that note, I was actually planning on writing a follow-up column all about J. Lin and the media’s obsession with him. But since Harvard has now become irrelevant, I figured I should focus on something more topical. Like NCAA Tournament drinking games.

Going back to that night in Cambridge and my severely watered-down coverage ... maybe it was more professional. Maybe there really is no difference between writing “Just when you thought Harvard could engineer a comeback, Wittman and Dale hit back-to-back dagger 3’s to silence the crowd and hand Cornell a double-digit lead! Despite what the halftime song might have said, the Crimson yet to prove they’re ‘gonna run this town tonight,’” and “Wittman and Dale make two 3’s to put Cornell up 67-56 with 7:05 to play.”

I don’t know, those who follow dailysunsports on Twittter or our live-blog at www.cornellsun.com can be the judge. In the meantime, I’ll continue my ongoing internal crusade to be more objective, and less of a bitch.

Though, if you see me out, feel free to ask me what I think of the poster child of Harvard athletics (AKA Jeremy Lin). I promise to give it to you straight, especially if it’s after a few shots. And I promise not to throw anything.