my blood probably runs redder these days

In honor of my day off (thanks Maryland primaries), I decided to hit the town. And on a Fall Monday, chances are every bar in town is packed with one type of person:

a Ravens fan.

Now I've slowly been acclimating myself to the world of football, mostly out of necessity at first. I never really saw a need to watch men who, if encountered in a dark alley, would cause me to wet myself, bumble about in spandex trying to knock each other over. The only time my family watched football was on Thanksgiving, and high school football games were much more about socializing and perfecting that damn pat-your-neighbors-leg cheer.

College friends required a bit more investment, for the sole purpose of being able to see them on a Saturday between September and February. I learned the difference between a buckeye and a pot leaf (or at least that there's supposed to be a difference), and politely picked the dead Oregon pom-pom off the seat before getting in my friend's car for our Saturday Costco runs. I even kicked it in my college president's basement one year for the Ohio/Michigan game (although I slept through the third quarter....what can I say he had a really comfy bean bag chair). Now I even belong to what we refer to as the "Ohio State crew," a group of miscreants who either attended the school, lived in Ohio, stumbled into the wrong bar, or just look really good in scarlet.

But Baltimore fans are a breed of their own. Casual Friday around here means wear your favorite jersey, the mention of the Colts will get you kicked out of an establishment, and the day after a tough loss students are either inconsolable or fighting about who knows more obscure statistics from the game. I swore I'd never drink the Kool-Aid, that no matter how much I wanted to jump into the Baltimore culture this was one cult I was just too sane to follow. And believe me, if they thought it would help their Super Bowl chances, these people would drink just about anything...

So I figured holding out a year in this place was enough grounding in reality, and hit the town, purple tank top and all. And I gotta say, it was one hell of a game. Besides the fact that I love any excuse to trash talk in a public setting, football lends itself well to social gatherings. The game lolligags around enough that I can catch up with friends, or not worry that a sneeze is going to ruin the game-winning shot. And it was nice to feel a part of something that had nothing to do with "tracking the achievement gap." I was just another person screaming insults about a 400 lb man's love making abilities in front of the local news camera. Ah, to belong.