Well, the Pittsburgh Steelers are about to win another Super Bowl, just miles away from where I live.
As many of you know, the dreaded Pittsburgh Steelers are the number one enemy of Dom Heffner, and my personal observations of this event must be shared to warn thousands of Redzoners from possibly feeling even an ounce of admiration for one of the worst "teams" to ever win a Super Bowl.
If even one of you utters, "Well, you have to admire/like/respect/ or any other positive synonym about this...this...ill-fated masssacre that is about to take place, you will, of course, be sentenced to watching the DVD box set of "Superstars of Dance." (Of which the worst judge on the show has an uncanny resemblance to Troy Polamalu- you know the guy, the one who sits in the upper right hand corner of the panel who gives everyone an 8 out of 10because, as he says, "Everyone has something they can improve on.")
I drove through a sea of Steelers fans near Raymond James Stadium yesterday, doors locked, hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, not trusting a single one of them. Never has there been a display of such ignorant support for a professional franchise.
These fans support a team that sports only one decal on their helmet- a decal stolen from the poor working class people this team purports to represent.
These people support a team that fields no cheerleading squad, evidence of the fact that there are no hot women that can bring themselves to support such a group of men that ignore basic grooming habits, like the cutting of their hair so it doesn't hang so low that you can't tell what the heck their name is.
These people support a team that fields no players you would ever take for your fantasy football team, unless to cover a bye week or injury caused by one of their defensive players.
These fans cheer for a team that plays its home games in a stadium where a 35 yard field goal is a dicey proposition.
Upon driving through this array of misguided working class people, I apologized to my very beautiful and very pregnant better half: I'm sorry, honey, for jeopardizing the health and safety of the two most important people in my life. You never know when one of these fans might try to emulate Hines Ward and break one of our jaws. Or spear tackle us like we were Willis McGahee. Or grab our chins and spin our ahead around like Keith Gary did to Ken Anderson, as if he were Linda Blair in the Exorcist.
Or tear our MCL, like that third string defensive lineman Kemo Vanawfulplayer did to that saint of a man, Carson Palmer.
Are they really that bad? Is what they do legal? she asked. Legal, but unethical I explained. Like prostitution in Vegas, smoking, having children out of wedlock.
These people walking around this city's Raymond James Stadium support a team that really isn't a team. It's a defense. There are no offensive stars, 1000 yard rushers, 12 TD receivers.
Mark Malone, Kordell Stewart, Todd Blackledge, Mike Tomczak, Bubby Brister, Neil O'Donnell. I'm going to let that list speak for itself.
This team- or defense, sorry- has a QB who is more drinking buddy than quarterback. He wears eye black at night, and makes more bad decisions on the field than Gary Busey on a weekend pass in Bangkok.
But it doesn't matter when you have a defense that sets you up for 30 yard scoring drives after an interception, fumble recovery, or ambulance run. Or sometimes they just go ahead and score for you, becuase all you have in your offensive playbook is a flea flicker to Hines Ward so he can do his little skip into the endzone designed to irritate anyone not named Hines Ward. It's almost as if the 6 points are secondary to that giant melon headed thing they have at WR.
And let's not kid ourselves: 13-10 games are fun- like Pedro Martinez pitching for the 1977 Seattle Mariners against a lineup of Gerald Perry's is fun in baseball.
And now that Ben Roethlisberger will wear two Super Bowl rings because of what might be the two weakest opponents in Super Bowl history (three if you count the refs who handed them the first one), he will be called great, magnificient, and wonderful, even though he failed to show up for the first game- though not sure how much Ben Roethlisberger "showing up" helps a team about whom the experts say, "All the Cardinals have to do is score 20 points."
I'm not sure how I'm going to weather this game without breaking something. At least when I watch Duke win a college basketball game, I can say, "At least the Steelers didn't win today."
But tonight, it might be a drinking game (take a swig every time Hines Ward smiles- heck, I'll be drunk by kickoff), or doing something only slightly less annoying, like putting together one of those entertainment centers sold at Wal Mart.
Pray for me, Redzoners. Kurt Warner is my own personal Obi-Wan Kenobi.
My only hope.