There’s no better way to squander an afternoon. You get a hot pizza, a cold beer and you turn on the plasma, LCD, tube, radio or whatever form of media you so desire and you let your guard down. You become that incomparable lunatic that you never thought you could be.
Because of a dropped pass or an interception, you find yourself screaming at your television, cursing the gods, all because your team didn’t convert on 3rd-and-short.
You wear the same exact getup every game day because you are so superstitious. You won’t admit it, but you honestly believe the win streak is happening just because you’re wearing the same pants, jersey and hat you wore last Sunday. And when they lose, you find yourself picking over what you did wrong. Don’t worry, I won’t tell.
You spend all week reading the blogs, finding a way to pick apart the opposing team. You prepare for the game just like you were a pro scout. As a matter of fact, you should be a pro scout. You’ve gotten so good at knowing exactly what your team is capable of, you might as well be the coach. You know you’ve thought about it.
In the offseason you hope that your team will pick up that big name receiver, corner, or linebacker from free agency, only to see them go to the Redskins. You live and bleed the colors they wear.
You anticipate the next game, the playoff birth and pray for a trip to the big show.
It’s a love that, for most people, ends in heartbreak. But it’s the love that you just can’t let go of. Even though you know they’re going to break your heart again.
You’re an NFL fan. The world’s greatest. Without a doubt.