Everytime I tell someone I'm a Dallas Cowboys fan (born and raised, yes sir), I get the look. The Look. The oh-you're-one-of-those-ridiculous-Cowboy-fans Look. And I get the single, "oh." Yes, people, I'm a Cowboys fan, like my dad and granddad before me! My parents' Christmas tree is decorated in blue and silver! My brother has Cowboys stuff all over his room, like he's had since the day he was born. But to be a Cowboys fan in Carolina is a sin, apparently. So, fine, I'm a sinner... but we have a 4-0 record while I just saw the Carolina Panthers barely miss being shut out by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. I may be a sinner, but I'm a proud one at that. The first Panthers game I went to was Dec. 24, 2005, Christmas Eve, when the 'Boys came to town. Heading to Bank of America stadium here in Charlotte (with Panthers fan, Jason), I got comments about how I'm cheering for the wrong team. One guy even asked Jason if he was actually dating me, a Cowboys fan. But I found my group... a group of Cowboys fans standing in front of the stadium. We talked about where we were from and how awful we're treated because of who we cheer for. I felt at home, standing next to people who were like my uncles in their blue jerseys. The Cowboys won that game, thanks to a Billy Cundiff mishap. I stood in the middle of the stands as the game came to an end, proud and with misty eyes, I turned to Jason and said, "HA!" Then I ran away because there were some angry Panthers fans around...
1 comment:
People should read this.
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