My dad, and my grandparents, and my paternal aunts and uncles, and a few generations before them, have lived in Wisconsin, home of the Cheeseheads.
In my house growing up, if it wasn't green and yellow, it was maroon and orange (the unfortunate colors of Virginia Tech).
Then I moved to Pittsburgh. I've adopted this city as my own. I have learned "Pittsburghese" n'at, and have visited many of their finer institutions (from the Mattress Factory to Primanti's, Wholey's to Point Park).
The Packers were a wild card team; the Steelers had an amazing record. There was no way they would ever have to play each other and my loyalty would be tested.
Hello, Super Bowl.
I started the day at church in a Steelers jersey. Safety might have been a concern.
However, being the good Lutheran church that it is, there were two others that had Packers gear on (and they weren't thrown out).
So I dared. I decided that I needed to end the Super Bowl in Steelers regalia (since, if there were riots, I wanted to blend in), but still needed to show my Packers pride.
So I showed up for the game in my green and gold, with my fingers crossed.
(It took some convincing to get any sort of Pittsburgh-Green Bay picture to happen, but I worked my charm.)
At halftime, I switched back into the Black and Yellow, but my long-time team pulled it out in the end. Congrats Green Bay! You stopped the Stairway to Seven.
So here I am, finishing my final months in Sixburgh.
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