I’m just going to put my bias out there before I pull out my soapbox this morning. Make no mistakes, I am a disgruntled, non-playoff making, die hard Steelers fan who spent far too many Sundays this season watching horrendous football on both sides of the ball. We were not a playoff caliber NFL football franchise by any stretch of the imagination, and should spend the entire off-season wearing ass hats to display publicly our shame.
In this town being sidelined in the post-season is a bitter, bitter pill to swallow, and I’ve just not quite reached a place of acceptance concerning our parade of mediocre performances, botched opportunities, and not-getting-the job-done-ness to watch the NFL post-season without fits of anger and uncontrolled outbursts.
A glutton for punishment, I spent a considerable amount of time this weekend shouting profanities at the television as I watched teams I loathe triumph in the wild-card games.
Yes, Baltimore Ravens, I’m talking about you.
I hate you.
As if it weren’t sickening enough to watch the expletives in purple trounce the Colts, watching Ray Lewis’s post-game remarks made me puke in my mouth. Though I will eat a heaping helping of crow and acknowledge that this expletive is truly an animal on the football field (and off), and is unarguably one of the greats to have ever played the game; it makes me sick to cast this douchebag as an American hero or an ambassador to the game.
Ray Lewis, penance happens offstage, with no audience, no crowds, no media, and without fanfare. To see you conveniently strip off your game jersey and display your Psalms 91 t-shirt for the world to see made you an even bigger fraud in my eyes.
Color me crazy, but I think God had a few other items on his to-do list that trump your performance against the Colts, though he thanks you for your contrived praise and glory for the sake of your rehabilitated image.
God is a Steelers fan, Ray Lewis…and the Ravens are a franchise not even Jesus can love.
I feel better.