I am proud.
I am proud of my Broncos. I didn’t believe that they would make it to the off season at all and they made it to the divisional playoffs. That’s pretty huge.
My Broncos made it twice as far as anyone believed that they would. I am proud of my team.
I am proud of myself.
Both my husband and my friend John can confirm, I never make bets when it comes to Bronco football. I would rather have a win for my team than win a few bucks.
There is another thing I never do: I don’t shit talk. I may admit that I don’t care for someone and I will probably tell you who I would like to win. But I won’t get dirty. I have never felt that t0 be a fun pastime for me.
I don’t have another team I root for just because I don’t get to watch my Denver Broncos on TV. I am a fan of only one team.
Baby I was born that way.
Today I am especially proud of myself.
I dressed in enemy colors and walked into enemy territory. I cheered when my team did well. I held my head high. I have to admit, I was TERRIFIED at times. It was scary to be there. To be surrounded by the fans of the opposite team. But I am really proud that I braved it.
I could not have done it without the support of the very few. Wicks, as usual, proved that she knows how to be a BFF. My husband did a nice job of supporting me and his own Pats at the same time. Texts and FB messages from friends were very helpful.
Speaking of my husband, one of my favorite moments of the game was well toward the end, when my team was way beyond a come back, and he held me tight to his side, still rooting for his team but patting my back and gripping my shoulder when he knew I needed it most. That is a good way to tell when someone loves you.
There were a few friends who decided that it would be more fun to be dicks, even after my team was too far down to ever come back. Way to be sportsmanlike y’all. You should be proud of yourselves for your restraint and humanity. You win. Yay you. I hope being ass holes about it made you feel proud.
I am proud that I did not beat down the little girls giving me dirty looks who wouldn’t know a first down from a hole in their ass. They saw my colors and decided I was the enemy without knowing the first thing about football. They must not have mothers as awesome as mine was.
I ‘m not going to lie. I never thought my team would win. But I did hope that it would be close. I won’t lie about crying a bit over it either. A big loss like that hurts. Hurts like a bitch. And I might have cried like a baby.
I just kept thinking that while my mom would have been pretty pissed about the Broncos’ loss, she would have been damn happy with me for cheering them on til the very end.
For that alone, I am proud.