Sorry CheeseHeads But....

So I am at Sundays game, Steelers V. Packers, Clash O' Dynasties, Heinz field rightfully decorated in it's best "frozen tundra" look. Now, I like to think I have the best season tix in the stadium (which means the best in all of the NFL, right?), and virtually all of the fans in our row come to every game regardless of health or childcare arrangements. Unfortunately, the man who owns the three seats directly behind me sells his seats 80% of the time. For big games that means often sitting in front of outta' towners who drive my wife to a rabid frenzy. Last Sunday was no exception.

As we walk up to our seats we almost drop our beers at the sight of three Green & Gold wearing Packer Backers. In the middle sat the largest and the loudest who looked and sounded just like Drew Carey regailed in an honest-to-goodness foam cheese head. By the tail end of the game the only thing keeping me from tossing this braut-worst suckin' goof over the railing was the fact that he had brought his teenage daughter with him (no doubt for protection from abuse). After the now pathetic Steeler defense gave up yet another big TD with 5 minutes to go I was deflated. He, on the other hand, didn't shut up for the next 4.59 seconds.

By the time the last second ticked off the game clock I was in a catatonic trance, unable to see anything but Ben Roethlisberger and the ball. I couldn't speak and all I could hear was the incessant barking of man from New Jersey who for some reason decided it was his life's passion to follow the ghost of Vince Lombardi from city to city. As the clock landed on zero the ball was in the air, surely headed out of bounds. Steelers rookie receiver Mike Wallace, who is listed at 6ft. even, must have stretched 3 extra inches to making a miraculous, tippy toes touchdown.

As my wife and I screamed and beat each other I could finally smile as I looked back to the Cheese wearing, won't shut up, Packer Backer Mother F***er who, at last, was silent...

... priceless.