I recently bought my first authentic Steelers jersey. They ain't cheap. In fact they're insanely expensive. So it was with utmost gravity that I selected the player to immortalize on my back.
I can't wear Roethlisberger or Polamalu or Parker. Half the shirts out there are one of those three.
I could get fellow Ohio State alum and Super Bowl MVP Santonio Holmes, but I would look pretty ridiculous in his jersey. That goes for all of the little speed guys. No receivers or defensive backs' jerseys. My square build requires at least a linebacker.
No white guys. It bugs me when 80% of white football fans wear the number of the same three white players. Sorry, Heath Miller. You're out.
No one on the offensive line, which in the interests of greater accuracy will now be pronounced with a long o.
The defensive line is 2/3 white, and the third third's nickname is Big Snack. I don't need that in my life.
This leaves the linebackers. Woodley and Foote went to Michigan, and there's no way in hell that's happening. This leaves Farrior, who could retire any year now, and Super Bowl hero James Harrison. It's Harrison. Got to be Harrison.
And thus did I so very carefully choose to purchase the jersey of a man who would, mere weeks later, make headlines by declining to visit the White House with the team. Said he:
This is how I feel -- if you want to see the Pittsburgh Steelers, invite us when we don't win the Super Bowl. As far as I'm concerned, Obama would've invited Arizona if they had won.If I'd set my money on fire, at least it would have generated heat.