Driving home on the Turnpike the other night, I couldn’t help to notice one of those Penn DOT signs that read, “Go Steelers,” “Go Eagles,” “Drive Safely.”
It was hard not to notice because it the letters were orange, flashing and it was dark. They usually wait to trot that kind of stuff out there when the sun goes down.
But there was another phrase that popped up on that blinking board on the side of the road somewhere near the Downingtown exit. It was this part of the sign that hung there in the darkness that stood out the most. The weird part was that it was such a harmless little grouping of words that were probably plugged in there by a guy after he had just finished spreading some rock salt on the icy roads.
It read:
“Turnpike Super Bowl.”
Yeah. Let the significance of that sink in for a bit.
(I’ll wait.)
Apparently, geography isn’t as important as it seems in football allegiance. Instead, good old fashioned parochialism and front-running is the great determining factor. Just because a team is from the same state in which one is born doesn’t make them the “home team.”
Here’s what I mean:
Let’s get in a car and start in Philadelphia. For argument’s sake, we’ll start in the parking lot of the Wachovia Center on the side facing Lincoln Financial Field. You know, the lot where you need a special pass to park on game days.
From there we’ll go over the Walt Whitman, hook onto the New Jersey Turnpike and head up to Exit 16W. At that point we can drive into the Giants Stadium parking lot, loop around once, and then get back on the road to head south back to Philadelphia.
Keep a close look at the clock because we’re timing this.
Here’s part two:
Again we’ll start in the Wachovia Center lot, only this time we’ll get on I-95 and head south. After barreling through Delaware, Maryland and the Key Tunnel, we’ll keep heading south though we’ll give a nice salute to the M&T Bank Stadium out the passenger-side window.
In a few more minutes we’ll hit Landover, Md., the once proud home of the Capitol Center, the ugliest arena in the history of big-time American professional athletics. In Landover we’ll find a big, hulking stadium where we take a lap, exit the grounds, return to I-95 and head north to Philly.
So what does this prove? For one thing it proves that in the time it takes to drive on the PA Turnpike to Pittsburgh, a person can motor from Philly to the Meadowlands, or from Philly to the Washington, D.C. suburbs and back in less time.
That’s two different NFL franchises in each direction – four total – that are closer to us than the one all the way across the state.
Pittsburgh? Hell, it ought to be on the other side of the moon.
Better yet, when one moves farther west from Philly they actually get closer to Baltimore. For instance, my house in Lancaster is closer to the Baltimore stadiums than it is to the Sports Complex by a whopping four miles.
It’s a faster drive, too. No Schuylkill.
And yet Pennsylvanians on the eastern and south central ends of the Commonwealth continue to root for Pittsburgh teams and TV networks beam in Steelers games on Sundays. Sometimes they even do it at the expense of the Eagles and Baltimore Ravens.
The Redskins? Hell, D.C. ought to be on the other side of the moon.
So, at least on this end of Pennsylvania, the Steelers benefit from folks who escaped from Pittsburgh. Look, generalizing is bad. It’s not nice. But often with things that are bad or not nice, generalizing can be easy and fun. So let’s generalize about Steelers’ fans for a moment – you know, the ones from Pittsburgh as well as the kids growing up in the 1970s who saw Lynn Swann and John Stallworth and thought it would be fun to root for a good team.
These are the same types of people who rooted for the Cowboys because they liked that blue star on the helmets. Nothing wrong with that. It’s better than liking a team because it’s in the same state.
Back to the generalizations…
There are notions about people from Pittsburgh. Like they are all angry, have primordial facial features, and enjoy soaking in a cesspool of human bile. People from Pittsburgh also have scabs on their knuckles from where they drag them when they walk.
That isn’t right, is it?
Then again, Pittsburgh is so bad that people from Philadelphia look down on it… that means it has to be bad.
Go ahead, say I’m generalizing, or call me an anti-Pittsburghite, because you just might be right. But before you do, think about this: how many people from Pittsburgh do you know? Think for a second… I bet it’s quite a few. Like Tom Kowalski, Frank Kowalik, Jim Kowalewski, Ed Kowalak, Stan Kowalka, Pete Kowalkowski, Mike Kowalczyk, Christina Aguilera, Andy Warhol, and Rocky Blier. Now think of where all those people live.
I bet it isn’t in Pittsburgh.
Just be thankful you aren’t stuck in traffic in Atlanta.
So before we park ourselves in front of the TV tomorrow to watch the Conference Championships, let’s think about the proper matchups. Just because two of the teams anchor a long stretch of road six hours apart doesn’t mean it’s a heated rivalry. In fact, the best Super Bowl matchup is probably Philadelphia vs. Baltimore.
Never mind the proximity of the two teams (after all, the game will be played in Tampa and not some halfway point between the cities like Aberdeen), there are many common threads.
One is the Ravens’ coach Jim Harbaugh is one of Andy Reid’s guys. Andy groomed Jim Harbaugh, he showed young Jim the ropes and kept him employed for many years with the Eagles. First it was as a special teams coach, then he moved up the ladder to various coordinator positions. And as the Eagles’ fortunes grew in the NFC, so too did Harbaugh’s.
Now he’s all grows up.
Plus, it was against Baltimore where Reid unceremoniously yanked quarterback Donovan McNabb from the lineup in that ugly whipping by the Ravens. It was that came that set the whole late-season run in motion and forced the star-crossed McNabb to search for his missing mojo.
Without the Baltimore Ravens stomping all over the Eagles in November, it seems unlikely that we’d be in the position to discuss a Super Bowl matchup.
However, there is the matter of the Baltimore Ravens themselves. Baltimore is not the Ravens. No, no, no! Baltimore is the Colts. The Baltimore Colts. Always has been and always will be. In fact, the NFL should step in and force the Indianapolis franchise to return the name and colors back to Baltimore where they rightfully belong.
Let the people of Indianapolis pick their own Edgar Allen Poe poem to name their team after. Johnny Unitas, Alan Ameche, Raymond Berry and John Mackey played for the Baltimore Colts. Art Donovan, Lenny Moore and Gino Marchetti are Baltimore Colts.
When Baltimore was tearing up the NFL, Indianapolis wasn’t even on the map (OK, it was, but we’re ranting here). Let them be the Indiana Larry Birds or something. The Colts belong to Baltimore.
In other words, I will predict that Philadelphia will face Baltimore in the Super Bowl. Let Pittsburgh have their Heinz ketchup and disgusting sandwiches topped off with fries, some type of meat patty and a fried egg with cole slaw mixed in.
It’s gonna be Philly vs. Ballmer, baby.
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Ed. note: Frankly, I really have nothing against Pittsburgh or Pittsburghers. It really doesn't matter to me where a person is from. I also don't care about what team one chooses to root for either. But ridiculous "city rip" stories with even more ridiculous generalizations of the people from a particular place are quite intriguing. And now that I finally tried it, I'm sorry Pittsburgh. I just wanted to hack it up for fun. Thanks.
Indianapolis... you're on your own.
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