I'm a Bengals fan, which means I take little joy in the game I love the most. I still watch I still wear my tiger-adorned clothing (inside the house more often than not). However, the sounds of the game are muted by the sounds of my voice as it utters, in anguish, words of disbelief and shocking profanity.
Thankfully, 30-plus years of fandom for the orange and black has taught me nothing if not self-reflection. I know why I root. The Bengals are my favorite team. I grew up in southwest Ohio and the Benglas were my team. By the way, my current resdience in central California (making me a "ca" fan) has nothjing to do wityh years of disappointment....I think). Progessing from childhood to teendom to adulthood while the team progressed from Super Bowls to missing the playoffs to a divided clubhouse that I cannot stand has yet turned me away.
I am still a Bengals fan. I met Jeff Blake and Kevin Kaesviharn and shook their hands, I hugged a Ben-gal cheerleader (yes, that's really what they're called), I went to the first game in Paul Brown's palace on the river. I celebrated before, during and after while attending a Monday night game and still (literally) have the scars to prove it.....the less said about the walk back to the car after the game the better. I've been to and watched games with friends who rooted for Denver and wore Elway jerseys, friends who rooted for Indianapolis and wore Manning jerseys and I NEVER watched with friends who rooted for the Browns no matter what the jersey.
I'll root again in 2009 and beyond. This much is assured. After all, I will not become a Raiders fan. Some things are just too pathetic.
Keywords: Cincinnati Bengals
