Well, they've done it. The Pittsburgh Steelers have won their sixth Superbowl, which is a record. It was a really exciting game; this is coming from someone who usually thinks football is boring (I know, I know). I wasn't sure that my girlfriend and her parents, who are card carrying members of "Steelers Nation", were going to make it through the game at some points. Either they were all going to have heart attacks or I was going to kill them, whichever came first. :-P Luckily, we all made it out alive. After the game, her father (a Pittsburgh native) informed me that I was now also part of Steelers nation and though I thought I was from Detroit, I'm actually from Pittsburgh.
No, I'm really from Detroit.
Not that I blame him. He meant no harm or insult and I'm not going to hold it against him. First of all, his ego was inflated by a Superbowl win and mass consumption of alcohol. Second of all, it's not uncommon for people to assume that if you're from Detroit, you want to disassociate yourself from it as much as possible. Not that we don't contribute to that attitude. It's one of the only cities I can think of where people try to explain which suburb they're from on vacation to avoid being associated with the city. If you ask someone who was raised in Lake Forest, Illinois where they're from, I'll bet you they'll say Chicago. Ask someone raised in Sterling Heights, Michigan; they'll say Sterling Heights, despite having to explain exactly where that is. While they explain it, of course, they'll emphasize the distance away from Detroit.
Not me. I say Detroit.
I was born at St. John's Hospital, which is actually in the Detroit city limits. My parents both grew up here. My grandfather worked downtown in the Comerica building for 30 years; that's where my mother and father met. His family goes back several generations here. This is my city. It may not be pretty. It may have a habit of tearing itself apart and burning itself down. It may be marred by decades of bad government from divisive, corrupt politicians. It may have a really. bad. football team. But it's still my city.
And I love it.
I suppose I am part of Steelers Nation, by proxy. I want them to do well because it makes my friends happy. I'll root for them the whole season. But when the Steel Curtain rolls into the Motor City next season I'll be wearing blue and silver, no matter how much teasing it causes from my friends or how much of their Steelers regalia they have on. Why? Why root for the obviously inferior team?
Because they're in my town.
It's not about football. I really don't even like football. It's not about historic numbers of championships or historic numbers of losses. It's not about dynasties built on dominance or built on futility. It's about my city and I refuse to represent a different one when I have the chance to represent my own. I would no sooner walk into Ford Field wearing anything but Honolulu blue than I would walk into Comerica Park wearing Yankee pinstripes.
And maybe, just maybe, we'll win that game. Perhaps the Lions will beat the World Champions. Maybe they'll even win a couple of other games, too. Maybe the Lions will give the people of Detroit something they desperately need-something to be proud of. Most likely they won't, but even if they don't, I'll be there in my Honolulu blue with the mantra in my heart that rings true for both the Lions and the city of Detroit more than ever these days:
We have nowhere to go but up.
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