Growing up in Texas, you really can't help being a football fan. It is unavoidable. It doesn't matter who - high school, college, pro. Hell, they even managed to sell out arena football games in this state!
The Dallas Cowboys were the team of choice in our household. I can remember learning the details of football from my Dad during the glory years of the late seventies and early eighties. Roger Staubach, Drew Pearson, Ed Too-Tall Jones (recently spotted on a Geico commercial), way too many of my childhood photos wearing my favorite t-shirt: And on the eighth day, God created the Dallas Cowboys. (Hello parents? Didn't you hear of laundry day? Or maybe a haircut that didn't involve a bowl?)
Growing up, I was told I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up. I believed it. So I wanted to be a pilot, a doctor and a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. A woman can have it all, right?
The cowboys enjoyed another high period during my college years. Good times all around. Then, it all went wrong. For a long time. We went through coaches faster than most people go through socks, had quarterbacks old enough to be my grandpa, our owner had more plastic surgery than Joan Rivers, and we had this:
But finally, after 13 LONG years, the ship has been righted, at least for today. We finally have a playoff win! Now, this may mess up my vacation plans, but . . . . Go Cowboys!
I think it's against my religion to root for the Cowboys, but girl, I totally get the football as religion thing. I, too, learned about my team from my elders ... and that shit sticks with you. It makes me giddy!
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