32 pro football teams are in training camp now, and it's a good time for fans to refine their practices, as well. Especially fans who intend to watch games with me. The cardinal rules follow. We'll start with how to dress and end with post-game etiquette.
Pretty in pink. There are two schools of thought on women wearing pink versions of team uniforms. The first school of thought is that this is patronizing to women and unsupportive of the team for whom they purport to root. The second school of thought is asinine.
Women, believe me, there is nothing hotter than you in my Steelers jersey. (We shall skip all discussion of any autohomoerotic overtones in this statement.) I mean, who's hotter here, the famous beauty wearing her quarterback boyfriend's number, or the everyday beauty wearing an offensive lineman's number? Who's the real fan here? Who is more likely to be able see a holding non-call? You can guess my answer.
Thou shalt not disrupt my sight line. We all need to use the bathroom and refill our drink, especially during the playoffs. But in a three hour football game, there are only 12 actual minutes of action. This leaves you 168 other minutes to walk between me and the action. Look at the bloody game first. Are the little men lined up in a row? Are they running full speed? Yes? Hold your bladder another two seconds.
Attention, Steelers and Bills fans. Buffalo wings as a stadium food? Seriously? What exactly do you expect to do with the bones? No. No, no, no. You will not drop them where our feet are. You simply won't. No one would be that disgu—
Jesus H.
Shut the fuck up. You may talk about non-game related matters during commercial, injury, or replay time-outs. Otherwise shut the fuck up. And if it's the Steelers in the playoffs, you will only speak when spoken to.
Seriously, shut the fuck up. When I snap at you mid-game for saying the Steelers get all the calls, this is not the time to discuss my myriad temper problems. Not unless you want to experience them at full intensity.
Excuse me again. Sorry. I promise...this is the last time. Excuse me. When I go to a football game in person, I never ever have to leave my seat mid-game. Why? Because I'm there to see a football game. Which brings us to you. I can't see the game. I see only you. Sit down. If you must get up, kindly time your exit and entrance for the aforementioned 168 minutes. I know you won't.
Seriously, sit the fuck down. Do you like the feel of gnawed chicken bones ricocheting off your head? It's easy to come by. Repeatedly stand up in front of me during exciting plays in progress, blocking my view of critical event after critical event.
Look! Up in the stands! It's a bird! It's my bird! Directed at Superfan! Hi, my name is John, and I root for the same team you do. This does not give you a mandate to be my leader. I will not join you in chants, song, or the infernal Wave. Contrary to what you will doubtless say through your slurred speech, this does not impugn the sincerity of my fandom. It confirms it. We're here to see the game, not to validate you. Now turn around and sit down so you can see at least one play before you leave.
Hosts, make your guests feel welcome. Visitors, take your shoes off before entering. Collegial ribbing is fine, but Superfan, if you set out to ruin the good time of a visiting fan, I will personally strangle you with your Terrible Towel. And on the road, you shall not antagonize enemy fans. You shall represent the Steeler Nation honorably, because I'm certainly not taking a punch for you.
Act like you've been there before. When your 12-4 team waxes a 5-11 team, don't rub it in opposing fans' faces. You were supposed to win. Do you masturbate after sex, too?