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Why I Hate The Cleveland Born Pittsburgh Steelers Fan
Why I Hate The Cleveland-Born Pittsburgh Steelers Fan
OK, hate is a strong word.
And I absolutely mean it.
The Cleveland Browns and Pittsburgh Steelers have a storied rivalry. For more than 50 years the two teams have clashed in NFL games that, lately, have mostly been pretty one-sided.
But that doesn’t take away the fact that Steelers and Browns players, coaches, and fans truly despise one another.
Now, I could bore you with all the numbers and stats that detail all the reasons why Cleveland and Pittsburgh make perfect football rivals. Both cities are blue-collar. They’re in close proximity to each other. In many ways, Browns fans and Steelers fans are the same.
But today, I want to take a different route. So instead, here’s a quick story about why I really, really hate the Cleveland-born football fans who root for the Pittsburgh Steelers.
Sometime in the fall of 1999…
The air has finally switched from a comfortable warmth to a distinct, autumn chill. For some reason today the walk to Cleveland Heights High School feels… different.
Sure, the route is the same. My best friend and I stop at the same corner store and buy the same snacks along the way. But there’s just something off about today that has me feeling a bit anxious.
Football is back. And more than that, Cleveland Browns football is back.
You see, that son of a bitch Art Modell stole our team in the middle of the night over three years ago. But now, the Browns are back in Cleveland. Our first game is in just a few days against our longtime rival, the Pittsburgh Steelers. I’m already thinking about what snacks I’ll have my Pops get for the game. I’m already making plans to not have any plans this upcoming Sunday.
In many ways, order has been restored.
It’s not where you’re at, it’s where you’re from…
My first few classes today have been uneventful. Several students and school staff members are decked out in Browns gear. It’s still early enough in the school year that we’re not doing much in class, so the hours are moving along pretty quickly.
But lunch? Lunch is a different story.
“Is that it?” the cafeteria lady asks. I reach into my pocket for the $2.25 to pay for my rectangular pizza, cold fries, and chocolate milk.
“Isn’t it always?”, I bark back.
She rolls her eyes. I grab my tray of food and head to my regular seat in the crowded, bustling lunch room. That’s when I see it.
Across the room, standing on the stairs that lead out of our dining area, I spot my favorite teacher.
Mr. Decker is dressed from head to toe in Pittsburgh Steelers gear.
“Are you shitting me?”, I whisper to myself.
“Williamson!”, the cafeteria lady shouts. Apparently, I wasn’t whispering.
Before I know it, I make my way across the room. I’m standing right in front of Mr. Decker, looking up, as he’s standing on the top step. My eyes go from his stupid Steelers tie to his stupid Steelers belt buckle. This dipshit even has the nerve to have a tie-clip donning the ugly Steelers logo clipped onto his tie.
“Hey, Mr. Decker,” I sternly remark. “Didn’t you brag to us last week that you were born and raised in Cleveland?”
He turns from his conversation with the security guard to answer me. He sheds a stupid grin and takes a swig of Snapple before he speaks. “You know it!” he answers. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“Well,” I ponder. “I’m just wondering why you’re a Steelers fan if you were born here.”
He laughs. I’m shocked. My favorite subject is English, and this guy is an English teacher. I’ve only been a high school student for a few weeks, but I can already tell that his class is going to be my favorite.
Well, was.
“See, here’s the thing,” he begins. “I like winners, so I back winners. It’s really as simple as that.”
“Yeah, but, doesn’t that just make you a frontrunner?” I ask.
He laughs again. At this point, my agitation is boiling from disgust to full-blown rage.
As he thinks about his answer, I spot the cafeteria lady across the room. We lock eyes and she slowly mouths the words “Get him”. I’m not sure exactly what it means.
“Mr Williamson, there’s only a few minutes left,” Mr Decker tells me. “Why don’t you just go finish your food.”
I’m disappointed, but for what? I’m not sure exactly. I do know, however, that my pizza is getting cold. I turn to walk back to my seat.
“That’s right, run away,” he says. “Just like the Browns ran away to Baltimore!” Mr Decker and the security guard burst into laughter. My rage now has nowhere else to go.
As he lifts his Snapple to take another swig I smack it right onto the floor. The glass shatters. The entire room gets quiet and all their eyes turn to us.
I flip him the double-bird and yell “Browns bitch!” right in his face. I’m so close he can smell the chocolate milk and pizza sauce. I snatch the Steelers tie-clip from his chest and get ready to toss it, but before I’m able to the security guard tackles me to the ground. I hear all the kids in the room erupt in approving cheers and hysterical laughter.
And just before I pass out I spot the cafeteria lady smiling and nodding in approval.
A few days later…
I was suspended for two weeks, and the Browns lost their first game in three years to the Steelers 43-0.
As the final whistle blows the house phone rings. I answer it. It’s Mr Decker.
“Steelers, bitch!” he yells.
And that’s why I hate Cleveland-born fans who root for the Pittsburgh Steelers.