When you grow up in Baltimore, it’s assumed that you hate the Indianapolis Colts. Period.
At Declan’s pickup from school on Friday, there was all this Super Bowl talk and I offhandedly made a crack about how I grew up in Baltimore, so of course I was rooting for the Bears.
I patiently explained that, when I was a kid, the Baltimore Colts packed up all their belongings – even the mementos and historical stuff of the team when it was great in the 60’s – and snuck out of town in the middle of the night in big-ass Mayflower trucks like whimpering little dogs with their tails between their legs. And they became the Indianapolis Colts without one word to any of the people of Baltimore.
And the hate began.
I assumed as I told the folks at Declan’s school that it was an age thing – these teachers were in their early 20’s and must not have heard this famous story from the mid- 80s.
However, when I was telling the story at dinner with Jeff and Danielle later that evening, and mentioning how old they made me feel… I got a completely blank stare from Danielle too. Danielle, who grew up in Texas. Cowboy Country.
So, maybe it’s just a regional thing… and I’m not so old after all.
But I still hate the Colts. Not that I have paid one iota of attention to the season or really care about football in the slightest little bit. And yes, I do realize all that went down over 20 years ago and really has nothing to do with the current team.
P.S. This game is extra bittersweet for us, seeing as Bryan’s dad played college ball and was drafted to the Chicago Bears before having a career-ending car accident right after college. I repeat, GO BEARS.