A Stranger in a Strange Land, Among Enemies

I go to the store in my Patriots sweatshirt, hat and coat.  As I walk in I am surrounded by sea of strange purple jerseys with an ugly black bird adorned on them.  I think they call it a Raven.

I get stares and dirty looks, from the young and the old, from the men and the women, even the little children.

I walk into my neighbor’s house to watch a game on his 65 inch HDTV.  I pass a “Ravens Fan Only Zone” sign with a red flashing light.”  As I enter, 15 people raise 30 hands with their middle finger stuck up at me.  I guess since their logo is an ugly bird, they are giving me 30 of them to ponder.

As that team in purple jerseys give up a big play I declaim how mediocre they are performing.  A few carrots smack the back of my head.

As that team in the purple jersey gets intercepted, I say “Wacko Flacco made a dumb play there.”  I feel a punch on the arm and a “keep it yourself,” from a normally mild manner young woman.

As that purple adorned team loses yet another close game I say, “if they don’t quit blowing leads in games, they’ll never make the playoffs.”  Another vegetable whizzes by my head.

And I hear a long, whhhhhhhhhhinnnnnnnnneeeee, “but that was a bad roughing the passer call on us when the Patriots beat us.”  “Oh, get over it already,” I say.

“We are going to beat you tomorrow.  Are you too chicken to come watch the game with us?  Do you have the nerve?”

“Do have the nerve for me to be there?  I can’t gloat when we win if I watch it at home.” 

“We’re going to win!  We beat Oakland last week.  We’re on a roll.” 

I laugh, and point out that the purple team might have lost had the lowly Raiders not turned the ball over twice.

“But, but, but…” is all the reply I get.

I am a stranger in a strange land, among enemies.