Thursday, December 13, 2007

"An Afternoon in Foxboro"

OR "How Patriots Fans are the New Yankee Fans"

Last Thursday, reader Assassin Avenue (a Pittsburgh native and Steelers die-hard) promised a recap of his visit to Foxboro with Patriot loyalist, the cheif. Here is his story...

"Nice scarf ya loser. Nice Blue scarf. Oh, how I'd hate to be a Steeler fan in a blue scarf guy. Oh my God I would hate that."

He wore a pink polo hat, a black and gold jacket and was obsessed with my scarf. He'd made fun of it for 60 minutes straight. And he saw no irony in the fact that he was wearing Steeler colors.

His buddy's obsession was my Terrible Towel and how to steal it, the best to "wipe his ass with." They missed the best play of the game – the Flea Flicker – on their beer run, guy.

The older men behind us were more sedate in their mocking, but no less annoying and repetitive. Going on and on about a silly guarantee goaded out of a back-up player. "You wave that towel while you can, guy." "You come back in January, you really think things will be different? I can personally [places his hand on his heart] guarantee they will not be." Oh, so witty. But I learned that's about the best you can expect in Foxboro.

Indeed, it's has been confirmed. Patriots fans are the new Yankees fans. Cocky, annoying, and more interested in discussing their team's glory than actually paying attention to the game itself.

To be fair, there were exceptions to the rule. Of course the Chief is notably in that number. And he should be publicly commended for telling the investment banker douche bags to get over themselves. There was also the kind couple behind us, interested in the city of Pittsburgh. And the dood to my right who mocked me when appropriate but also shared updates, perspectives, and asked questions. He got the pageantry of the event correct. We're all Americans here people, just trying to have a good time.

The Chief was invited to a wonderful tailgate. The only rule: you must always be eating. The highlight was the deep fried Oreos and the amount of Steeler fans in the lot. And the glory of shoving toe warmers in your shoes.

The Chief and I both noted how much all looks in person. The lighthouse is smaller, the bridge not as large and the action on the field is just a bunch of guys playing football.

However, it must be stated that any fan of the game needs to see it in person from time to time. Television creates false drama. You can't see where the ball is headed. In person you can watch the plays develop and also become extremely frustrated in ways TV does not allow.

For example, why on Earth did the Steelers corners never jam and play so far back? And why didn't they do any over load blitzing. Everyone knows the Stillers zone blitz, switch it up!

And, the most awful example of it all. Sitting in the endzone we all knew Randy Moss's first TD bomb was a lock from the start of the play. It was just plain perfect. And very depressing.

In the end, a good time was had by all. Douche bags got to harass a Steeler fan, the Chief got to yell "First Down" when prompted by the announcer and high-five strangers.

As for me, my silent victory game on the ride home. Listening to Pats Radio post-game talk, many complaints came in about the about of Steeler fans in the crowd (reason: we're loyal and long-time fans, not Johnny-come-latelys). The radio guys continually defended the rights of us Steeler fans to wave our towels, much to the annoyance of their listening audience. Soon we found out why, an irate caller railed on the radio hosts for being from "Pennsylvania" and it turns out that both the announcers were from Pittsburgh and admitted their hearts were with the Steelers. That's right Boston, your favorite Pats guys are Steeler fans.

And, btw caller – there is more than one major city in Pennsylvania. I know you New England folks can't imagine more than one big city in a five state region, but it's true.

All thanks to the Chief.

-posted by Assassin Avenue

1 comment:

JC said...

Kevin Garnett is begging you not to mess with the New England mojo.