Dallas Sucks

Neither Rachel nor myself are what you'd call big sports enthusiasts. If we do watch a game, we're usually (but not always) likely to do so mainly for the social component. For example, I remember watching the Super Bowl this year at my in-laws house, but I don't remember who played or who won. What I do remember is having a good time with family and enjoying some delicious home-made pizza.

That said, you might wonder why, when I passed a guy on the street with a baseball cap that says "Dallas sucks" (referring the the football team the Cowboys) it hurt my feelings so much. I mean, despite not really caring about the football team, I haven't always had the kindest words about the city. I think the best analogy is a relationship with a sibling.

(Let me preface this by saying that I have a very positive, healthy relationship with my brother and only sibling.)

Despite the fact that deep down, you know you love your brother or sister, sooner or later you'll eventually get into arguments and call each other names. So, for example, you may call your brother or sister a jerk (or worse), and for a time, feel totally justified. The situation shifts when a third party enters the scene and utters the same insult at your sibling that you did a half an hour ago. They, unlike you, do not possess the same right to insult him or her that you do. And so, despite the fact that you may still harbor ill will toward your sibling, you will quickly come to his or her defense.

Thus is my relationship with both the Cowboys and the city of Dallas. I'm not particularly fond of either, but they both represent elements of my past. I can no more erase them from my history than I can change when or where I was born.

Dallas sucks?

No sir, you suck.