It Has Come to This

My sister and her fiancee spent Thanksgiving week in Cincy. The fiancee is a football fan and, since he spent boyhood years in Pittsburgh, is also Steelers fan. We have quality "guy time" talking football and watching games.

The Sunday after Thanksgiving we made some delicious steaks (to go with leftover mashed potatoes) which we ate for lunch while watching the Bengals get humiliated. The fiancee is a fine, upstanding person and I felt guilty for subjecting him to such a miserable visage. So I told him we should go up to "that Steelers bar" to watch the second game.

The bar is Martino's on [short] Vine. Please believe me when I tell you that once you cross the door, YOU ARE IN PITTSBURGH. Do not wear Bengals attire or even anything Cincinnati-related unless your idea of a good time is being insulted and hassled mercilessly.

Portal to Pittsburgh

But if you fit in, you are family. And it is a family place, at least on Sundays. There are plenty of moms, dads and kids in the place, many decked out in Steelers garb. Take a look:

My brush with greatness's jersey

The fiancee and I had a great time at Martino's. It helped that it was a very good game. Afterwards, I had a moment of deep reflection which I expressed thusly: "Fuck the Bengals. I'm through being Mike Brown's chump. From now on I will be watching the Steelers at Martino's."

You can be a football fan or you can be a Bengals fan, but you can't be both. That's how I feel about it. If you want to watch good football in a good atmosphere, meet me at Martino's and enjoy watching the Steelers. That is what it has come to.

Up yours, Mike Brown.