I haven't had much time for football and all its ups and downs this year. I have been popping in every now an then to read some of the great writing.
I've been watching the game at one of the local places with the boys last year and this. It's not the losing that bothers me, that happens. It's that little bar weasel sitting just on the edge of what is widely known to be Steeler territory (No 100% Steelers
bars here) who is clearly a Steeler hater (Yes, I know, it seems counter intuitive). He cheers Steelers' penalties and whoops at the other teams good plays. He is the type of guy who takes advantage of that fact that society frowns on gang beatings. He is also five foot nine and, like a buck thirty, and after one beer has a blood alcohol level of .15+. This is what makes losing to a team like the Titans
These feelings must be dealt with. I have my own way (It involves penut butter, a womans' corset, six white doves, rubber socks and electricity). Others prefer to calmly and articulately oooz their negative feelings out on the digital canvas. Some take this to an art form. I'm not sure who they are because, even after the electricity, I can't face more negativity after a loss, lest I have to plug back in once more. But as I understand it through my readings of those bringing these artists to task, they are calling for the heads of everyone from the head coach to the ticket takers (Who, by the way, influence the mood of the game in more ways than you think). This is the "Mother and Father" approach, whereby your father gets ready to do something rash after a loss like moon the bishop, a known fan of the Hated Patriots
, and your mother talks him back to sanity with a soft voice, a reasoned argument and a sausage and liver sandwich. Right off you're thinking "Mother and Father" with warm fuzzy feelings, but let me remind you of the unrest a little thing like a forgotten aniversary can cause, much less the hot topic of whether or not the line coach, that Kugler guy, is a Jonah (Just consider it).
Just as there are oposing views from one person to the next, and I'm not saying mine is right and other peoples are wrong just because their point of view clearly sucks, there are also diametrically different ways of dealing with the stress of being a passionate and committed Steelers fan who encounters a one hundred and thirty pound bar weasel. Two different times I had to call friends back to their seats (I knew they were serious because in each event they had set their beer down). Clearly, in a moment of overwhelming passion for the Steelers my friends had decided on a course that would have allowed them to skip the digital spewing form of venting for the kind that gets them an all expense paid evening at the concrete Hilton. This might have been avoided if their first strategy, forcing their pent up feelings back down with beer (Which usually works), wasn't cancelled out by a bar weasel. Some might even say that a bar weasel reverses and magnifys the calming effects of beer during a loss.
Where was I going with this?...
Oh yeah...We, every single one of us, are slightly different. No, it's true, that's how we tell one another apart. And we will all see and react to things a little differently, to a lot differently. But the one thing that makes some of us the same is our love for...wait for it...The Steelers (Didn't see that coming did you?). Remember, scientists now believe that it is love for the Steelres that binds the universe together. If it can hold the universe together, surely it can hold us savages together. So, cry, deny, vent, repress, pound, yell, proclaim, spew, embrace, laugh, write, rejoice, and everything else as you see fit within the bounds of society (Unless you're cought up in a anti-Ariens riot, in which case I say go with it), but always remember we in Steelers Nation are all still, first and foremost, Steelers fans, even that guy that vents in a different way than you.