Many football fans around America and serving overseas will be rooting for teams based on hometown affiliations, favorite players or coaches.
With the Pittsburgh Steelers out of it, I could care less about any of those factors.
I root based on nostalgic recollections about the cities where I can recall either getting kissed or getting good and drunk.
Happily, I have some experience in both realms from all four cities.
Let’s run ‘em down:
Seattle Seahawks
Esquire magazine sent me there in 2003 to do a story about the Waterfront Seafood & Bar in nearby Bellingham. I’d pitched them the story after learning the divey little joint had been home to three serial killers — Ted Bundy, Hillside Strangler Kenneth Bianchi and D.C. sniper John Muhammad — and that they were all considered good customers. I asked the bartender to share her idea of a bad customer. “That’s be anyone who steals, breaks shit, or starts a fight right when my shift is about to end,” she said. The three men (their eras did not coincide) had combined to kill 50 innocents. In fact, those notorious killers weren’t the only homicidal regulars in this friendly spot. She told me about James Allen Kinney who in 1998 had been convicted of beheading a date. I asked if he was as nice as the serial killers. She said no. “Now, that guy was just an obnoxious ass.” Despite the history, I had a great time at the Waterfront. People treated me with good cheer and no one tried to behead me when they learned I was a Steeler fan. Of course, the Steelers beat the Seahawks in the 2006 Super Bowl so another visit might have a different outcome. It’s the only bar I’ve been where even a designated driver can wind up with a real killer hangover.
Green Bay Packers
It was my pleasure in 2009 to enjoy a jaunt across Wisconsin to write about all the great golf in The Badger State. It was very sweet. I came to love Milwaukee and the great Sobelman’s Pub where the Bloody Mary’s are like spicy salads with vodka dressing. But I really enjoyed Kohler, home to the American Resort and its five championship golf courses. It’s about 20 miles south of Green Bay. I’d intended to drive up and have a look at historic Lambeau Field. The first night I was sitting at the bar for an early dinner and sipping a great big bourbon when five cheerful friendlies from Milwaukee found out I was from Pittsburgh. I’ll never forget what one of them said: “Man, I’ve never met anyone from Pittsburgh who wasn’t a really great guy!” I told him he hadn’t met me after I’d had four big bourbons. I was joking. I didn’t do anything to diminish Pittsburgh’s reputation and they guy bought me bourbon all night. I never made it to Green Bay because my new friends made sound a lot like Latrobe only with everything named after Vince Lombardi instead of Arnold Palmer. But I’m very fond of Wisconsin and its inhabitants, so based solely on the free bourbon let’s take the Cheeseheads in a squeaker upset over Seattle, 35-31.
Indianapolis Colts
One of my favorite descriptions of any locality was authored by Chicago columnist Mike Royko from about 30 years ago when he was trying to determine which was America’s most awful state. I can’t recall the “winner,” but I’ve never forgotten what he wrote about Indiana: “It’s a state whose two major cities, Indianapolis and Gary, give visitors a choice of dying from either boredom or multiple gunshot wounds.” Much has changed since then. I’ve enjoyed several family and work-related visits to the town Santa Claus and its Holiday World amusement park, and the French Lick Resort’s fantastic. I don’t know if Gary’s changed, but I know that thanks to the aggressive efforts of N.R.A. lobbyists, I can die from multiple gunshot wounds right here in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. But my fondest memories are of my college days in ‘83 when my buddy asked me to join him barnstorming the midwest in a traveling carnival. We spent weeks in Goshen, Fort Wayne, Elkhart and at the state fair outside Indianapolis. I remember a lot of beer consumption and happy encounters with friendly farm girls who liked to kiss. If any of those farm girls survived their reckless youths that featured drunken encounters with transient carnies, then they’re bound to be big Colts fans.
New England Patriots
That leaves us with the presumptive favorites to win it all. The Patriots are a great organization and have been perennial favorites for the last 14 years. But they haven’t won once since 2004 after they admitted they cheated. Being a Steeler fan, that admission really buoys me so let’s repeat it: They haven’t won since they cheated. The Steelers have won two Super Bowls in that span and might have won another if the Patriots hadn’t admitted they cheated to beat them. Being fair-minded, I might have a different opinion if I had a sunny recollection of a good romp in Beantown. I do not. I was there on a week-long assignment for People once in 2001. It was a rags-to-riches story about a petite little woman who overcame a troubled youth and reprehensible sexual harassment to become one of the Northeast’s most successful bricklayers and philanthropists. She’s very sweet and a wonderful example of how anyone can overcome great odds to do great things. But she didn’t try to kiss me and working for People was a terrible burden that left a bad taste in my mouth. I enjoyed a nice night at Fenway, had some expense account lobster and did a fair amount of touring. But no one hailed me for being a great guy from Pittsburgh so screw ‘em. Another upset: Colts 27, Patriots 17.
So if randy recollections of good drunks and horny farm girls have anything to do with it, Super Bowl XLIX will feature the Green Bay Packers vs. the Indianapolis Colts, along with the usual national consternation about why the NFL insists on using Roman numerals.
Want to talk about it?
Call me!
My number is DCCXXIV CMLXI MMDLVIII.
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