Being a Fan

The biggest game in the AFC took place yesterday in Baltimore and I had been looking forward to it about five minutes after the Cowboy win. CBS moved the previously scheduled 1PM Steelers at Ravens match-up to accommodate more national attention and casual fans. Like many Sundays, I plan my day around the Steeler game. I've been lucky, in many regards, that a) many of the games this season have been on national television or b) if I did not get the game, I had Christa texting me updates every 4 minutes with what was happening because I was not near a television, Internet, or telephone-appropriate atmosphere.

I didn't really think twice about the Ravens game - I would get home from the office at 4:10PM and calmly sit on the floor, like always, and will the guys on to victory.

Unfortunately for me, the ONLY regions in the United States of America that were not showing this clash of gladiators were Denver and CHARLOTTE. Thanks a lot Panthers.

Now if any of you know much about my elitist fan habits, many things may and may not occur when I watch my teams. Of the 18 rules I religiously uphold, in the top three is never watching games in public. I don't deal well with unintelligent commentary, cheering, chit-chat about how work is going, people that claim to be fans and embarrass our fine city and my family, smoke, the opposing fans, people who are "smarter" than the coaches, people who think they are smarter than me, and people cheering for their fantasy players. But here I was at a crossroads. I could stay in my apartment, hitting the refresh button on the computer with extreme vigor and hoping they show highlights every 5 minutes, or I could go somewhere to watch the game.

I reluctantly pick up the phone and start dialing some numbers. First option - only showing the Panthers game. Second option - we don't show games. Third option - Tropicana Sports Bar. I call and the "gentleman" on the phone says something like "yeah we're showin' the Steelers game on one of these TVs." Out the door...

(Here's how one person describes my destination: "The building itself is fairly non-descript. It shares a parking lot with a smoke shop, and a small sign on the roof is your only clue that you are looking at a sports bar. The atmosphere is definitely unpretentious and laid-back. It isn't super-spacious, but let's face it: at the end of the night, after you've already had a few, it doesn't really matter.")

(Chagrin)

Upon entering, the SEVEN people around the bar are watching the Panthers game and in the corner on a 25-inch box is my game. The bar table directly in front of the game has one ashtray, one Styrofoam cup and no people. And there I would sit - for roughly three full quarters gazing at the defensive slobber-knocker.

Since I'm a fairly positive person, let's start with the positives of the experience. First, I had a seat. Second, no one sat with me. Third, did I mention I had a seat.

But damn it, the boys needed me. If I needed to drive through the rain and inhale the smoke, listen to "GO D'ANGELO" for when the Panthers' RB would run, tolerate the swearing, spilled booze, randoms throwing 100% accurate nuggets of knowledge my way, no volume, and the darkness, than that's what I was going to do. That's what happens, though, when you're a fan. You'll do things you never thought you would because YOU affect your team's fate. They need your focus and subliminal play calling through the television to get into the endzone. You need to only eat non-fruit items at halftime because that's what the team would want you to do.

And with just over three minutes remaining in the game, down 3 and 92 yards away from the endzone, Tropicana did seem like such a bad place. Our boys shrugged off 57 minutes of JV offense to score an incredible touchdown a catapult us to a North Division crown. The game was a classic and I was so proud of our guys for looking at the Ravens nose-to-nose and walking away as the better defense (and offense.) There were so many big plays that determined the outcome that it's hard to anoint anyone the players of the game. And I saw it.

After getting in the truck, I immediately called Robby to get his reactions and get a gauge for his excitement. He proceeded to state that we won the game because of what he had done in the bar right before every possession the Steelers scored upon and thus, we owe the first-round bye to him.

I'd like to think we both had something to do with it - maybe even more than usual.