The state where I grew up is a football powerhouse. Great high school teams, great college teams and a great professional team. People love football in Pennsylvania. It is truly the regional pastime. The state where my husband grew up is also a football powerhouse. Great high school teams, great college teams and a great professional team. People love football in Texas. It is truly the regional pastime.
In my case, I loved a football loving Texan, and I pretended to love football the way he pretended to love contemporary art. Once our courtship became a legal transaction, pretenses dropped and indifference settled. Truthfully, as someone who is T.V. free, rarely listens to the radio, and never peruses the sports pages online or in print, I would not even know that it was football season if it wasn’t for Facebook and innumerable posts about the Pittsburgh Steelers. (Many funny posts about dead Ravens and crashed Jets appeared. I wonder what they’ll prognosticate for the Packers.)
As relatives, friends and old classmates from my native state cheer on their home team, I suppose I should feign a “Go Steelers!” or “Get’em Black and Gold” as the pride of the Pittsburgh tries for their seventh Super Bowl win. But, I really can’t seem to muster the enthusiasm. As a kid, I claimed to be a Dallas Cowboys fan just to piss off my father, which was my exact logic that I used at the age of eighteen when I registered to vote as a Republican. Although both alignments helped me to land my husband, I subsequently have abandoned both the Cowboys and Republicans, making me a woman without political and football team affiliation. Is it un-American to have nether?
No, independence and jumping on the bandwagon of the winning team or political party is the American way. It is as American as finger foods, pedestrian halftime show entertainment, commentary from washed-up, retired football players and overwrought commercials. So although I will watch this year’s Super Bowl without team allegiance, I say bring on the bite-size snacks on sticks and silly beer commercials. It is an American tradition.
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