Welcome (Back) to the NFL

DISCLAIMER: We here at North O Forbes hate season previews that are heavy on analysis. With the kickoff to the Steelers and the entire NFL season just hours away, it would seem appropriate that we would offer our readership (all five or six of you) some sort of forecast. Well, the magazine rack at Barnes and Noble is overflowing with 250 page tomes that include tidbits on every St. Louis Rams and New York Jets draft pick. If that’s your thing, more power to you. Just don’t expect us to ever mention Brad Smith’s time in the 40 yard dash. Instead, we offer a completely unresearched and totally biased personal essay on the Steelers (kind like Bill Simmons’ thoughts on the upcoming Patriots, er, NFL season). We promise this moment of reflection won’t last too long, and we’ll start acting like smart asses again very soon. Without further ado…

My Sports Illustrated subscription expired in the middle of last January. Why is this relevant you ask? Well, as most readers know, the marketing gurus at SI like to reward your renewal with a “special” gift. The best of these gifts is an NFL Champions package, that includes a hardback book and NFL Films DVD featuring whatever team wins the Super Bowl. Sick of getting fleece blankets the color of pool table felt and oversized gym bags, I decided to take a chance. The Steelers were two wins away from the title, and the starring role in Sports Illustrated’s Champions Package.

Well, as everyone knows, the men of Steel came through. The Gatorade had barely dried on Bill Cowher’s shirt when I was already on the phone, reading my credit card number to SI’s subscription department. Yet as with most of my best laid plans, something hit a snag. February came and went. My magazines began arriving again, but still no Champions Package. March came and went. I bit the bullet and called customer service. “We’re sorry sir; we had a computer glitch that says you still owe us payment. Since you don’t, we’ll ship those off to you right away.” Well, needless to say, they didn’t arrive right away. Four more calls to customer service and a 3 AM profanity-laced email later, my Champions Package finally arrived last week.

For a guy who once killed his chances with a girl at a party by telling her “inspirational sports movies are like porn to me,” the Super Bowl XL DVD was a revelation. And in hindsight, it’s kind of nice the movie showed up on the eve of a new season. It had been long enough that some of the smaller details of the championship season were already getting a little hazy. No, I won’t bother summarizing the thing here, and yes I cried. Twice. Fuck you for judging me.

However, given the timing of the DVD’s arrival, there is one particularly haunting scene worth mentioning. The film’s credits play over footage of the Steelers victory parade through the streets of downtown Pittsburgh. Throughout that day of celebration are images of a perfectly healthy, newly-elected Mayor Bob O’Connor—jiving with Hines Ward, slapping high-fives with Bill Cowher, and of course, leading the crowd in a raucous chorus of “Here We Go Steelers, Here We Go!”

Now I’m not trying to eulogize O’Connor. His death is terribly sad, but it’s not my place. Instead, I’m taking the DVD as a reminder not only of life’s fragility, but also the great little moments packed into every season; moments that happen whether or not your team ultimately wins a championship. So, with this in mind, I offer my first annual New Season Resolution. I’ve never been terribly good at keeping my New Year’s Resolutions (see my chewed up finger nails for evidence of how successful resolutions from 1995 through 1999 were), but I’m hoping I can follow through on this one. With the glow of a championship season still fresh, I’m going spend just this one season trying to worry less about wins and losses and more about enjoying the ride.

Allow me to explain further. I never saw Ben Roethlisberger tackle Nick Harper. The instant the ball popped out, I was a crumpled, cursing, sweaty mess on the floor of the ESPN Zone in Washington, DC. In the moments between then and Mike Vanderjagt’s missed field goal, I wondered why I did this to myself—if the highs were worth the agonizing lows. If the Steelers had lost that game, I’m sure I would have come crawling back for the 2006 season, my fandom hungrier and more intense than ever. But for the first time in a long time, something broke exactly right for Pittsburgh sports.

So this is my reward. What good is it to be the defending champions if you can’t enjoy it for a while? I was in St. Louis last week visiting family, when a drunk local spotted me in my Pittsburgh Steelers paraphernalia. “Steelers fucking suck!” He said to me. “Sorry dude, I couldn’t hear you. I’ve got five Vince Lombardi trophies in my ears,” I shot back, and just kept walking. You get to be that chill when you're the champs. Regardless of what happens this season, we as Steelers fans get to keep that vanilla cool for the next 20 or so weeks. After all, our team is the title-holder until the final gun sounds on February 4 in Miami. I’m still going to watch every game, and I'll still get pissed when Heath Miller comes off the field on third downs. I'm just going to try and enjoy my dinner a little more on the Sundays when my team loses.

That said, there are two other guarantees. First, this resolution will be shot to hell the minute the Dolphins convert their first third and long tonight. And second, if the Steelers repeat, no matter how successful my resolution is, I’ll be back on a table at Peter’s Pub, terrible towel in one hand, Iron City in the other, conducting the crowd in a rousing rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing.” How many times do you get to do THAT in your life?