Sometimes, you just gotta #@%&ing shout.

You know what I mean?

Sometimes, the %$#& gets real and you just have to let it out, at the top of your lungs.

Let the $%@# hit the wall, or go right through the wall.

It doesn’t matter if you’re the athletic director at a major university.

Or if you’re a doctor.

I mean, you’re still human, and you can’t take this %$#&, anymore.

Just because you want to rip the %&#@ing arms off the head of hare-brained officials on account of the way a game is called, and your beloved team just lost a home league game to the No. 4 team in the country, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost your #%@$ing mind, does it?

Of course not.

It doesn’t mean you’re an $%#&@$#. It doesn’t mean you’re a bully.

The fact that a &*$#ing postgame press conference is going on in the next room and the walls at your arena are for some stupid, unknown reason paper-thin, and a $%@#ing gang of media members are assembled there, within earshot of every profane thing you scream, microphones on, is nothing more than bad luck.

It doesn’t mean $%@#.

It’s not a reflection of bad character on the AD’s part.

It’s &#$%ing sports.

It’s passion, that’s what it is.

It means the athletic director gives a #@%$.

And that he’s not going to take any more.

The AD’s not going to let those #%$@ refs get away with jobbing his team in what turned out to be a loss, even if those refs sent the AD’s team to the free throw line 36 times and sent the opponent to the line just 23 times.

There comes a time when #%$@ needs to be said. Yelled. Hollered. Barked. Howled. In case the conference’s head of officials cannot hear what the AD is saying. You know how refs are.

It matters little that if that kind of swearing at those decibels from one individual to another went on in any reputable place of business, say, at corporate headquarters for a financial firm, somebody would be in deep &$%@. And there would be @&*% to pay.

It’s a little embarrassing, I guess, a department director at a prestigious academic institution screaming his &#%$ing guts out that way, seeing that sportsmanship and %&@# like that are supposed to be championed, you know, one of life’s great lessons to fine young student-athletes.

It’s a bit much for a leader like that to be such a $%@#ing lousy example to the kids.

It’s always about the kids.

But @%$# happens.

That’s a lesson, too.

As expected, and as was probably required, said athletic director apologized for his outburst. That statement read like this:

“I have had a few days to reflect on a heated conversation I had with an individual following our men’s basketball game against Arizona State on Sunday. While my emotions were high and I thought our meeting was private, there is no excuse for the inappropriate language I used. I have apologized to the person involved, who is someone I have known for years and greatly respect. I also regret any discomfort to others as a result of my cursing. As the leader of this department, I expect more of myself and I am sincerely sorry.”

Right on, bro.

It’s OK. All &#$@ing good.

No disrespect intended.

The AD is the envy of all the fans who for all these years have only wished they could throw that kind of %@#$ at the head of officials. Some of them applaud the tirade.

And actually, the swearing wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like the athletic director called … well, let’s just randomly use the name … Bobby … a %@#$@&.

What was a bit uncomfortable was the over-the-top volume of the screaming, the wild tone and tenor of the shouting.

But at least the AD has known, um, Bobby for years and greatly respects him.

Think of the way all of that #$@% would have gone down had they not known each other and the respect not been so great.

As a result, we’re going to just put all this to bed, once and for all.

Bury the &$@#ing hatchet.

An apology has been issued, no harm, no foul.

What is screamed is screamed. What is done is done.

We can all be %@$#ing thankful for that.

GORDON MONSON hosts “The Big Show” with Spence Checketts weekdays from 3-7 p.m. on 97.5 FM and 1280 AM The Zone.