Yesterday everyone on campus was wearing black and gold — except for our administrative assistant. A Colts fan from way back, she was defiant in a blue and white dress which she’d been saving for the occasion. She’ll be rooting for the Colts in the Superbowl. But even she was happy the Saints will be there too.
This is the match-up I was hoping to see. Months ago when both the Colts and the Saints were racking up consecutive wins, it occurred to me that it could happen. And since I grew up in Indianapolis and still have friends and family there, I decided I really wanted it to happen, and have fervently wished for it ever since. I only wish I’d been bolder and predicted that it would happen. Then I could brag.
It should be a fun game. Think about it: the Hoosier team with the New Orleans quarterback versus the New Orleans team with the (sorta) Hoosier quarterback. I say “sorta” because Drew Brees went to Purdue, and we all know the Hoosiers are Indiana University. But I guess if we accept Boilermakers in my family I can forgive Drew too.
Diehard Saints fans are blissful at the mere prospect of seeing their team in the big game for the first time in the 43 year history of the franchise. There’s a sense of victory in the air already. No matter what happens in Miami, New Orleans still wins.
People might suspect me of having divided loyalties, but that’s not the case. Sure, I grew up in Indy, but I was never a Colts fan. I’ve only come to appreciate football (insofar as I do) recently. I haven’t followed the Saints long enough or studied the league hard enough to appreciate the Manning dynasty. Although it’s an interesting backstory, I don’t personally care about the fact that Peyton Manning is from New Orleans. I’m for the Saints all the way. They are the only team I’ve ever known.
In fact, it’s kind of amazing to me that I’m actually excited about the Superbowl this year. For most of my life this has been a “dead” day, a time when everyone in the country seems to be preoccupied with a strange event that is absolutely meaningless to me.
This one’s different.
Discover more from b.rox
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Our household is right with you Bart – plus we’ll have my mother-in-law (a HUGE Colts fan) with us here for the Super Bowl. We lived in B-town, Indiana for ten years then moved down here and this is the first time we’ve ever cared about a super bowl – WHO DAT!!
I see your point, but still can’t make myself care about football… or sports in general. It would definitely help bring a feeling of belonging, but it’s not in me. Maybe in few years when I catch up to you in age I might see what you see now. Reading how you felt about football in the past is precisely how I feel about it now.
raised by rednecks, “YES, he’s going to play FOOTBALL! Whatta ya want him
to be a SISSY?”…
played enough to get hurt Soph year and do no more sports after that.
Of course, it’s Militaristic, Combative, Trauma-conditioning and indoctrination
for young men.
Of Course it is “Bread and Circuses” while our empire is nearly dead and open
to invasion from foreign invaders, while we grab for some dwindling measure
of happiness, euphoria, belonging to a successful group-tribe-shared-moment.
I saw one of the Adventist elders in the store last monday, and admitted to
my evening of Idol Worship, and he grinned and said yeah.
I will be wearing my twenty-year-old “WhoDat?” Jersey with the old white
stripe sleeves…and I’m a freekin’ BRONCO fan, a poignant fate…