Here We Go!

Last year, when the Steelers finished the regular season 15-1, I thought our year had finally come. Every time a conversation turned to football, I talked trash--and then, after losing miserably in the playoffs to, of course, New England, I ate a lot of crow.

This year, we weren't quite as strong in the regular season, and barely made the playoffs--as the No. 6 seed. A No. 6 seed has never made it to the Super Bowl, so all the commentators had written us before the playoffs even started. But something was different this year--we had a rocky mid-season, but we looked strong at the end of the season. And somehow, you could tell, there was a hunger there. From the beginning of the playoffs I've had a good feeling that we were going to the Big One. But this year, I kept my mouth shut--I made no bold predictions, just said before each new game that I was hopeful but also nervous.

Today, my boys did it--they defeated the Denver Broncos and are on their way to Detroit for the Super Bowl. I am ecstatic--though during the game I was so nervous I thought I might get physically sick. I am ecstatic because I think that Steelers are a good team, and a team with character. While sports reporters write stories about "star" athletes who make more trouble off the field than plays on the field, the stories about Pittsburgh in the coming weeks will surely center around one of the most gregarious, vibrant, and well-deserving athletes playing the game today--Jerome Bettis.

Because bigger than the story of his almost 14,000 career rushing yards, bigger than his returning to his hometown of Detroit for a game that will probably be the biggest--and last--game of his career, is the story of a man who has always played the game he loved with more heart than anyone, but always knowing that it was just a game. You can be sure if you're watching a Steelers game, you're going to see a lot of shots of a big man with quick feet, a propensity to dance in the endzone, and a grin that can't be contained.

To me, Bettis' unbridled enthusiasm for the game is what Steelers football is all about--because it mirrors the same enthusiasm I've experienced my whole life following this team. Some of my favorite Sunday afternoons growing up were spent watching Steelers games with my dad--my dad, a quiet-mannered guy with coke bottle glasses, who turned into a raving maniac when the boys in black and gold were on. One minute he would be sitting nervously, cynically predicting that we were sure to give this one away (the more he predicted we would lose, the better our odds of winning), then a moment later, after we'd make some big play, he'd be leaping off the couch, doing a crazy little dance I can't even begin to describe, and whooping and hollering so loudly he probably woke the neighbors.

It was those Sundays with my dad that are the reason I love the game of football--and the Steelers--so much. During the next two weeks, I will again be making no predictions--I'm hopeful but also nervous. The only prediction I will make is that on game day, I'm going to wish I were sitting on the couch next to my dad, watch the boys.

My New Year's Resolutions

Normally, I would list here the typical--get in better shape, improve my financial situation, etc. This year, I just can't do that. While I do plan to do both of those (and am actually already taking steps in those directions), I just feel like this year I need to have more meaningful resolutions.
There has been so much about the past year that has deeply affected me that I'm not even sure where to start. So much has both shaken and reaffirmed my faith in the humanity of Americans, of the global community. The suffering the world witnessed as a result of Hurricane Katrina brought to the surface many disturbing questions. How is it that our nation's most vulnerable citizens have become, as CNN's Anderson Cooper so hauntingly put it, "a population of invisible people"? When did it become so easy not to see those that need our help?
At the same time as I decried the blinders that let this tragedy happen, the outpouring of help that came from private groups and individuals helped restore some of my faith in mankind. For a week straight a local radio talk show had me in tears every time I listened to them, as they led a collections effort that resulted in about a dozen tractor trailers full of food and supplies being delivered to the Gulf, along with almost half a million dollars in cash donations.
While we tried to recover from tragedy at home, Americans continue to grapple with increasingly complex global issues--namely, how do we protect ourselves from terrorism without ourselves becoming the terrorists? It is my personal opinion that we have not done that well, and that our nation is in serious need of strong leadership to take us back in a more moral direction that truly values human life. It's really not my intent here to wax political (at least not in this post), but to provide a backdrop for my resolutions for the coming year. So before I go off on a tangent, here they are:

• To be more grateful. Sometimes it's tough to balance my checkbook right before payday, but I have never once gone hungry, slept on the streets, buried someone taken away from me by tragedy or violence, never once been abused or neglected. I am beyond blessed.
• To do more good. I can criticize my government, I can criticize our lack of action and policies I don't agree with it. But when it comes down to it, most of what I do is lip service. What action have I personally taken to help the poor, to educate the illiterate, to right the wrong? In the past year, very little. I graduated college with plans for a career in journalism because I thought I could make a difference--give voice to the voiceless. After three years, I left the field because I felt I wasn't able to do that in the way that I wanted to, at least not in the current media environment. But in the year and a half since I made that decision, I haven't found another way to "change the world." So my resolution this year is to start finding my own way to make a difference, so that in my soul I know I've done my part.

That's it folks. Two resolutions. Seems like it should be easy--but I have no doubt these will be the most difficult resolutions I've ever made.