OK, people, enough with The Wave already.

It was fun for a while, but it's time to move on. Like leg warmers and Rubik's cubes, this fad needs to be stashed away inside a 1980s time capsule. Put it next to Max Headroom.

I know, I know: Some of you still like The Wave. But most of you merely tolerate it and, like me, secretly wish it would go away. And by "secretly" I mean you yell "The Wave is for losers! What is this, 1985? Go put on some parachute pants!" at the top of your lungs every time The Wave circles the stadium. OK, maybe I'm the only one who does that.

This fall, The Wave celebrates its 25th year of giving Wisconsin sports fans a reason to get off their duffs. Never before had a cultural phenomenon prompted such synchronized group activity. It's like when my Aunt Gladys grabs the microphone at wedding receptions to sing "I Love You Truly" ... everyone simultaneously bolts for the exits, trampling flower girls and miniature grooms as needed.

University of Washington football fans claim to have started The Wave in 1981 at Husky Stadium. But a superfan known as Krazy George says he started it at an Oakland A's baseball game. In any event, The Wave didn't sweep the nation until fall 1984, when suddenly it was being done at every baseball and football game. Some say it caught on after University of Michigan fans saw The Wave while taking on Washington in 1983, and brought it to the Big Ten. The next season, after the Badgers visited Michigan, it caught on at Camp Randall Stadium, where the student section needed something to do besides hurling expletives and plastic cups at each other.

The Wave was a rage, a chance for fans to participate rather than merely watch. It was a welcome distraction when a game got lopsided, and a way even senior fans could act hip without breaking a hip. The Wave is a more joint-friendly than "Jump Around."

At first, innovations prevented The Wave from getting stale. The UW student section perfected the slow-motion Wave, the ultra-fast Wave, and even the reverse Wave, sending it back around the stadium in the opposite direction.

But it's all been done a million times over now, and it's tired. Am I the only conscientious objector who years ago began refusing to participate? The Wave's 25th anniversary is to be mourned, not celebrated. Watching The Wave is like watching a 50-year-old mother dress like her teenage daughters. It's just a bit sad.

The Wave is too old to be a new fad, yet too new to be considered a tradition like the seventh-inning stretch. That's why it's time for the rest of you to admit what you're feeling but not saying: It's time to wave goodbye to The Wave. Come on, 'fess up: You only participate because of peer pressure. You don't want to look like the only fuddy-duddy in your row who is too lame to do The Wave, so you get up and do it, even though you don't feel like it. And you end up dumping a tray of nachos in your lap.

It's great when fans show spirit, but The Wave feels forced. You feel like you HAVE to do it, like attending a distant cousin's wedding. You can only hope Aunt Gladys doesn't commandeer the mic.

There's too much forced cheering these days as it is. Giant video boards order us to "Make Some Noise" and the public address system blares, "Everybody Clap Your Hands."

You know what? I don't want to clap my hands. And I'll make noise when I darned well feel like it, preferably when prompted by game action. I'll stay in my seat when The Wave rolls by, thank you very much.

I hope some of you will join me. The Wave was fun for a while, and we'll all remember it as a national phenomenon, but its time has passed. Let it disappear like leg warmers and parachute pants.

Contact columnist Ben Bromley at bbromley@capitalnewspapers.com.