The Day After

Okay, the Steelers lost. The defense allowed 41 points, our rookie threw some interceptions, our offensive line couldn't seem to give our rookie time to throw, and the coach played too safe. But can I tell you HOW MUCH FUN I HAD WATCHING THE GAME!

I have to admit that I wasn't very upset about losing because I HAD SO MUCH FUN WATCHING THE GAME!

My buddy, Scott, an avid Steeler fan, invited me to go with him to a Steeler bar. I wasn't sure what that meant, but because the game was late on Sunday and I knew that my kids would go to bed before the game was over and that my husband would keep telling me to "shush," "relax," "calm down," and "BE QUIET" I decided that a Steeler's bar was the place for me.

I found the place with no problems. It was on the corner of a strip mall, a rundown building divided into different businesses. Florida, especially where I live, is full of strip malls, and most of the companies are usually going out of business. The only activity in this strip mall was the bar, Rudy's, a Steelers bar.

I parked and passed by all the closed stores until I came to an end in front of Rudy's door. The closer I got to the door, the louder the pounding and roaring of voices could be heard. I thought that was cool, but I was still picturing booths and tables with food and drink. I got to the door, opened it, and walked into STEELERS COUNTRY IN FLORIDA.

My mouth dropped open.

I stood in the doorway and looked to my left. The bar owns the entire strip mall, and it was full of banquet tables butt up against other banquet tables down the whole strip. At one end, were five giant television screens., and to the right, a raised bar with tables and bar stools. I don't know how far back the bar went. Behind me was another room with another bar wholly filled with more television screens. It wouldn't have surprised me to see them on the ceiling.

But the most fantastic thing about the place was the people. Everywhere I looked, people of all ages, sex, size, and color, were packed into the area like sardines, and everyone wore black and gold from the top of their heads to the tip of their toes. Everyone wore Steelers outfits and waved Terrible Towels.

There were Pittsburgh Steelers caps, hats, crowns, and helmets. I saw waving #1 Steeler fingers, and light-up Steelers sticks. I saw Steelers glasses and mugs raised high in the air, and there were Steelers jerseys from Jerome Bettis, Hines Ward, Plaxico Burris to Big Ben himself. Fans wore black and gold beads around necks, Steelers scrunchies in ponytails, and Steelers jewelry dangled from ears and wrists. There were Pittsburgh keychains and tattoos.

Steelers posters and pendants and signs lined the walls, and the gillions of speakers vibrated with the Steelers' song.

Fans: "Pittsburgh's going to the Super Bowl."

Someone would send up a chant, and everyone would pick up on it, banging the tables and stomping their feet on the bar floor. The noise was unbelievable, the energy high and I was with people who UNDERSTOOD.

Throughout the game, I yelled, screamed, high-fived strangers, and rubbed my aching head when the Patriots scored. One guy kept up the frenzy by visiting every table to tell us not to get down, and he assured us we were still in it. He'd high five everyone's hands and clap until we would all get up off our feet and start chanting, "Here we go, Steelers, here we go."

It was that way until the end. Even when I left the bar and headed home, ears ringing, and clothes smelling of an ashtray, I had a smile on my face. Just knowing there are others out there like me, thousands upon thousands of Steelers fans here in Florida, made the loss bearable.

That is until I woke up the next morning and reality hit.

Shit. The season's over.