Dear !#^$ Baby.
Congrats! You love football! If you don’t, you will be punted from the family. From August thru January, you will live and die by all-day Sundays, Monday nights and the occasional Thursday. NO SATURDAYS. We don’t do the College Football thing in this house. Fantasy football? Stats? Player facts? You’ll know it all.
It would be in your best interest to be a Steelers fan. Sadly, my #1 team is the Vikings and, well, aside from one player, they aren’t really going anywhere. Your dad, and I by proxy and because he has made me watch the games every season for six years and it’s hard not to be a fan, is a Steelers fan and they are way less embarrassing to root for. Plus, Polamalu’s hair is a-maz-ing. (Although, to be fair, Jared Allen used to have a mullet. And you will learn that your mom @#%*ing loves mullets.)
Not only that, you’ve already been to a game at Heinz field where they kicked the snot out of the Patriots (Sidenote: If you’re a Patriots fan you will also be booted from the family). Remember a few weeks ago when there may have been a lot of up and down movement in your little bubble and you may have gotten a little seasick? My bad, I didn’t know you were there yet and I was jumping up and down a lot. I don’t think you had ears yet, so hopefully there is no ear drum damage. And, once again, sorry about the beer.
During game time you will be expected to be on your best behavior and entertain yourself so Daddy and I can watch the game and curse in peace. If you want to get all riled up with us, we’d love that. I’m just trying to give you fair warning on what goes on in this household.
So there you have it. You’ll probably be put in football onesies and all that shit because that shit is ridiculously cute. Probably also some baseball crap, but that’s a different post. And at least with baseball, my team is better than your dad’s choice, but I’m sure he’d beg to differ.
Football. You’ll love it. If not, find something to do quietly in your lame corner.