Myer's Fat Belly

This is something that I have wanted to do for a long time. I have never been much for words, but I do enjoy writing. So, this is about me. My life. My thoughts. My trials and tribulations. So, take a look at my thoughts and tell me what you think. Thank you for spending the time.

So, I watched the Super Bowl at my parents house. My wife was there...sewing a stuffed monkey for my soon-to-be-nephew. I spent most of the game in silence, wondering to myself why I hate the Cardinals so much. I mean, I know there are a lot of things to dislike about them -

- Kurt Warner for one. He just bothers me. I am sure that he is a great guy, but I just want to punch him.
- Edge. I never was very impressed with him when he was in his "prime", but he has to be 75 now. I know that old people go to Arizona to die, but should we be forced to watch them while they are doing it?
- The fans. That is when it hit me. I hate the "fans". These are the same people who had no idea about what to do when the Diamondbacks were in the Series. These are the fair weather fans that give everyone else a bad name.

I started hating teams because of their fans back when the Angels won the Series. I live near Edison Field. Midway through the season I was going to games that were half full...at best. All of a sudden the All Star break happens and everyone has Angels gear on. Every car on the freeway is flying an Angels flag. What the hell? Where were these people last year? Five years ago? It really got to me. When men are born, they either have the sports gene or they don't. If you are born with the gene, you automatically inherit a team to root for. You are not allowed to jump on and off the bandwagon. You lose your "Man Card" if you do this. Now I know that this may seem a little harsh, but these people are giving true fans a bad name. These are the idiots that bang the crap out of thunder sticks. These are the same idiots who need a rally monkey to tell them when to cheer. If you don't know when you need to get excited, don't come. These are the same idiots that leave during the 7th inning to beat the traffic. We have generations of children growing up thinking that Major League Baseball only goes 7 innings. I need a drink.

Anyways, it is funny how hating a team will make you as interested in a game as having your team play in a game. I wasn't rooting for the Steelers so much as I was rooting against the Cardinals...and I felt horrible about it. With the exception of Warner and Grandpa Edge, I am sure that most of them are great guys. They have spent years and years trying to get to this game and I was secretly rooting for them all to break a leg. When Fitzgerald scored that amazing touchdown, my body almost literally split in two. One side wanted to high five every living thing in a two mile radius. The other half of me wanted to vomit at the thought of Warner winning another Super Bowl while I had to spend way to much time watching his wife secretly control him like a puppet. Then...the nearly impossible happened. Big Ben drove the team down the field and Santonio made an even more improbable catch for the winning touchdown. I was so happy I almost dry humped my parents Chihuaha.

This was not the greatest Super Bowl ever. It was a horrible three and a half quarters followed by an amazing finish. The ads were mediocre. The half time show was decent, yet aged. Both teams deserved to lose. I was exhausted from being so up and down and it felt great.

The lesson from all of this. Don't hate puppies. Kurt learned this the hard way so you don't have to...