You Can't Always Get What You Want, or Why Football is Bad for My Mental Health

Another January, another post-season for the NFL.  After watching my home team fall in the first round and my second choice cry "uncle" last weekend, I realized that whichever of the four remaining teams make it to the Superbowl, this year's game is going to be a bleak event in my life.

But that wouldn't be absolutely terrible.  As far as First World Problems go, this really shouldn't be that bad.  It is just football, after all.  That is, it WAS just football, until I noticed that one of the possible match ups could be the Baltimore Ravens vs. the NY Giants.  Then my brain imploded.

As a Steelers fan, a deep, deep dislike for the Ravens has been instilled in me for as far back as I can remember.  It doesn't matter that I now live in Baltimore and am happy to call it home.  There is nothing on this earth that could persuade me to turn traitor, even if that means that my Sundays are spent in exile while the rest of the neighbors gather to watch the games.  

I'm okay with this, though.  I am fully aware that I'm living behind enemy lines here, and I'm willing to respect that (to some extent).  Also, as much as I love my fellow Baltimoreans, they're insanely delusional, so avoiding them on game days is always a good option.

My uncle has a similar affliction, according to my father.

Of course, the Steelers aren't without their token shady player, either.  But I can't say I've ever rushed to his defense so readily.  Nor is there any way to twist his alleged charges into anything remotely endearing.  Not that murder can be made endearing, but that's not the poi -- no! that is ENTIRELY the point!

My intense dislike of the Ravens extends so ridiculously far that I have actually felt guilty if I'm not as equally decked out in Pittsburgh gear when surrounded by my Baltimore counterparts.  

But this is nothing when compared to the hatred I have for the New York Giants.  The very fires of Hell cannot hold a candle to the pure loathing I feel towards the fucking New York Giants.   And the thing is, I haven't the slightest clue as to why I hate this particular team so much.  There is absolutely no logical or sensible reason behind why I feel so personally offended when someone steps into my house wearing a Giants jersey, but it's as if they're attacking my integrity.  I have no problem with any other aspect of New York City.  It's a fantastic place.  But this team...I can say without a doubt that I have less tolerance for this team than I have for stupid people or Christmas music.  Maybe a Giants fan dropped me on my head when I was an infant, or perhaps there's some other Giants-related traumatic event buried deep in my subconscious memory. 

At any rate, telling me that the Ravens could very possibly win the Superbowl is like telling a small child that Santa Claus doesn't exist -- it's a huge disappointment, but come Christmas morning, there will still be presents under the tree.  Saying the Giants could win, however, is like desperately waiting throughout the entire school day to go home and enjoy the last piece of vanilla-strawberry cake topped with rich, beyond delicious buttercream icing that my mother made for my 8th birthday.  

But when I finally dashed through the door and into the kitchen, I found my father quickly scraping up the last of the crumbs from the plate.  

The cake was gone.  I was devastated.  I tried to convince my mother to send my father out to buy a replacement slice from the grocery store, but she refused, and I didn't push the matter.  I knew a store-bought cake wouldn't taste anywhere near as delicious as one baked from scratch, and well, I wasn't going to get another homemade cake cause that shit takes EFFORT.  

Actually, the more I think about it, the more I'm starting to wonder if my mother purposely didn't want me to have that last slice...

Anyways, you see my dilemma.  Unless I outright boycott this year's Superbowl (not an option), I'm between a rock and a hard place.  So I made these pros/cons charts to help me come to an easy decision:

So basically, I'll be accepting bribes from both sides.  

(This post is dedicated to Eileen Huang -- best friend and fellow cake enthusiast.)