The true test of any sports fan — especially a football fan, am I right? — is the rally cry.
It’s how we know you mean it. It’s how we know you care.
The Draft Day Suit crew is known to practice ours in stadiums, living rooms, and sports bars for the NFL teams we love on any given Sunday, from the pre-season to the Super Bowl.
This week is even more special than the others, because the good people at Vicks have given us an opportunity to share our rallycries with you, a chance for you to win their Most Dedicated Fan contest, and the ultimate NFL prize: a trip to Super Bowl XLVI, in Indianapolis, Indiana.
Better people than I will write about the game, about the commercials, about the greater meaning of last Sunday’s Super Bowl. I heard Big Ben blames the loss on “Sussudio” being played before the game, but couldn’t find that anywhere online to snark at him about.
I could understand it though. “Sussudio” would kill it for me, too.
No. My two cents regarding this past Super Bowl have nothing to do with any of that, nor with Xtina effing up our National Anthem. I even have to admit that I didn’t quite catch what she did wrong, but my mind went “Wait…..what did she just mess up?” and made my husband rewind.
Not even that was enough to move me to post though.
Maybe it’s my new High Def flat panel TV. Maybe it’s just heightened awareness due to all the beer I had consumed.
But did any of you catch the come hither glances Joe Buck was tossing Aikman? He’s totally checking out Aikman.
What’s up with that? And why does Aikman look so pleased about it?
Yes, I totally grabbed my camera and took a pic of the TV. I was that amused.
How mad would you be if you spent hundreds of dollars on a plane ticket to get to Dallas plus hundreds of dollars on a ticket to the Super Bowl and bam, I’m so sorry, you don’t have a seat? I’d be pretty mad. Actually, I’d be super pissed.
My friend Mike is having that experience right now. He was lucky enough to have a ticket bought for him by his family and as he was waiting with his dad and brothers to take his seat, the folks at the stadium announced: “I’m so sorry, the Fire Marshal has declared your whole section unsafe.”
These guys may be getting three times the face value of the tickets and the stadium is setting up an area for these fans to watch the game. However, they won’t be at the game, in the stadium. Is the money worth it? My friend is just heartsick. They spent thousands of dollars to get to Dallas, they’ve been up since the middle of the night, because they are staying in a hotel two hours away.
I can’t even imagine how angry they are or what kind of a lawsuit is going to come of this, because you know someone is going to sue.
Did your family force you to spend too much time with them this holiday week? Did you drink too much? Tryptophan coma? Whatever reason you’ve been missing the sports news this week, I’ve got your back.
Mark Recchi becomes 13th person to score 1500 goals. Well, not all at once – he has been in the NHL for four decades. The Bruins right wing may have been playing professional hockey since 1988, but that is how long it takes to score 1500 career points.
NBA Ticket Prices Continue to Fall. Honestly, thank the Gods. The average NBA ticket price is down to $48 per game, and at that price I can actually afford to go to a pro basketball game – assuming I don’t buy more than one $8 beer.
Vince Young apologizes to his coach – by text message. Vince Young again shows his lack of class, texting an apology to Titans coach Jeff Fisher for an argument about his supposed benching earlier this week.
“I’m not a real big text guy,” he said Wednesday. “I’m not really into this new age stuff. I don’t twit or tweet. But I think face-to-face is a man thing, OK?”
In related news I continue to lose my faith in humanity.
The Black Eyed Peas Will Perform During Super Bowl Half Time Show. Luckily, nobody watches the half-time show during the super bowl so I will not have to endure this special brand of torture.
Our latest post in the Why I Love Series is by Katherine Stone.
I used to have a Mike Singletary t-shirt. If you know me and my intense obsession with fashion, you’re probably pretty surprised to hear that. God, I loved that shirt. Singletary was a hero to me, with his intensity and singleness of purpose. I wore that shirt all the time. I wish I still had that shirt. I’d wear it. I would.
My adoration of Singletary, and football in general, started in high school. We lived in Chicago at the time, and my dad watched the Bears. It just so happens that this was in the mid-80s.
Yep. Those Bears.
I began watching games because I wanted to hang out with dad. I was a teenager. I was awkward and weird, and not at all sure how to connect with my father. I wasn’t exactly daddy’s little girl anymore. So I sat next to him on the couch and started watching him watching football. I saw how much he enjoyed it. How animated he was. How he yelled and screamed at the TV until he was hoarse. Before long, I was yelling and screaming too.
The Chicago Bears of 1985 were a great team for a young girl who was being introduced to the game. Full of personality and attitude. Jim McMahon and his crazy headband messages. (A precursor to Twitter, perhaps?) The Fridge. Walter Payton. It wasn’t just about great football. It was the fact that each person was so unique and had a story, a narrative. The smarty Gary Fencik. The ballet dancer Willie Gault. I fell in love with all of them, as did my dad.
We were joined together in our fandom, father and daughter. Sundays were fun, and became increasingly so as the Bears kept winning. I wasn’t hanging out in my room, alone. I was hanging out with dad, and I felt more and more connected to him as the season progressed.
And then? The Bears were going to the Super Bowl. It was like WE were going to the Super Bowl.
I immediately went and bought my very own 45 of the Super Bowl Shuffle. For those of you who aren’t old like me, a 45 is a small vinyl record that was played on something called, appropriately enough, a record player. (“I’m the punky QB known as McMahon …”) I listened to that thing over and over.
I wish I could recall more details of January 26, 1986. I’m sure my mom made her homemade potato skins. I’m almost positive I made onion dip, the kind created from a package of dry soup and sour cream. I know it was a full-day celebration, capped off by a glorious victory. I’m sure we danced and cheered and hugged, but I can’t see it in my mind’s eye any more.
I no longer have that Singletary t-shirt, or the Superbowl Shuffle record. The only thing I have left is my yellowed, tattered copy of the entire Chicago Tribune from the following day. I asked my dad if I could keep it, and he said “Sure.”
I don’t think I realized how much that team impacted my life until the day Walter Payton died. I was 29 years old, and when I heard the news I cried like a baby. Walter was amazing, that team was amazing, and the time I spent with my dad was amazing.
Football gave me something I could share with my father at a time when I thought we didn’t have anything in common at all. Thanks, Bears.
Katherine Stone is a nationally-recognized, award-winning peer advocate for women with perinatal mood and anxiety disorders. She created and writes Postpartum Progress, the most widely-read blog in the United States on postpartum depression and other mental illnesses related to pregnancy and childbirth. Katherine is also BlogHer.com’s ongoing guest contributor for the topic of PPD, and her work has been featured on Mamapedia, Babble.com, the Huffington Post, NBC’s Todays Moms, ParentDish and PBS’ This Emotional Life. You can find her on Twitter at @postpartumprogr.
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