football memories, part III

Maui was amazing. I'd never been before, and Amina and I were looking for legitimate jobs we could do while living in Lahaina, because neither of us wanted to leave. And for me -- well, think about it: I was in paradise for a week, all expenses paid, and the end of the trip was a Super Bowl in which my favorite team was going to play.

I was a nervous wreck.

That's the kind of fan I am ... or had been conditioned to be, thanks to 25 years of failure and disapointment and heartache. I'm in paradise? Girls in bikinis, great seafood, sandy beaches and perfect weather? SOMETHING WILL GO WRONG.

On Super Bowl Sunday, most of Amina's colleagues had gone back to the mainland. There were a few stragglers, refusing to admit that their real lives were nestled in a frozen wasteland of snow and road salt. We were one of them, but I almost would rather have been back in my living room, free to bite my nails and swear and throw pillows and spank Fletcher whenever I was super angry ... I'm not the easiest person to get along with during a game.

But Amina's CEO was one of the stragglers, and he implored us all to join him at a little beachside bar/restaurant for the game. We couldn't say no -- he was the man whose signature was printed by a computer on all the checks -- but my wish was to order room service and quietly panic all by myself.

Why? I knew I was going to cry. I just knew it. It wasn't going to be a small sniffle, either -- it was going to be a full-on waterworks if the Steelers won. And I didn't need to have the executive team see Amina's husband act like a teenage girl.

Well, we went to the bar and gathered around a table and watched the game on a small screen high above us. I don't remember what I ate or drank, though I was careful not to drink much alcohol -- if I was going to get all emotional, a few beers would only make me more into that "I love you man" man. And I didn't want that to happen.

I don't remember much about the game, to be honest. I had to watch it on DVR when I got home, because I was a wreck the whole four hours. But I do remember getting up to leave the table when Cowher got his Gatorade dunk, because ... well, there must have been some pollen or smoke or sand that got into both of my eyes at the same time.

I'd lived to see my team win the Super Bowl.



And so here we are, the day of Super Bowl XLIII, and I'm not terribly nervous. I've lived to see my team win, so while I'm excited for the prospect of what lies ahead, I'm not in a panic or biting my nails or anything like that. The game will be what it will be.

But if they win, it's because I didn't wear a single Steelers logo on my body the day of the game. Others may claim their mojo sways outcomes, but I know the truth. It's all about me -- unless the Steelers lose, in which case I'll blame everyone and everything else.