In which I discuss my feelings toward a retiring football coach.

On a particular evening in the Fall of 1978, while I was rolling hotwheels across the dining room floor, my mother received a phone call from her sister. "Your Aunt wants to know who your favorite football team is" my mother said, holding the phone receiver at arms length so I could shout my response. At the time I was barely aware of football. I was five. My father, not being a fan of any sports really, had never steered me toward any allegiance. So I shouted the first thing came to mind, "Pittsburgh Steelers!". This was because one thing my father had steered me toward was an early love of music, and at that tender age I was fond of the Father Daughter country singing duo The Kendalls. The Kendalls had a song that still rotates through the jukebox of my brain today, "The Pittsburgh Steelers". So it was not really a surprise when some weeks later a package arrived to our mountain top home containing a Christmas present from my aunt, a little Steelers Jersey, my name ironed on the back.

Flash forward thirty years, I'm a Raiders fan, have been since Football became more of a passing interest for me. They play just up the freeway, and though I have never been to a game I suffer through their XFL caliber play on the tube if the games are not blacked out, I take jabs for openly displaying my allegiance to the world via a variety of caps and hoodies. My son barely two, has a fine Warren Sapp jersey I picked up from the Raiders store at the mall. But in the back of my mind I am always conscious of Pittsburgh. The Steelers are a favorite because of that snap decision made on the dining room floor three decades ago. I was able to enjoy last years Super Bowl victory as more than a bandwagon fan. I was happy for the team, their die hard fans and especially for Bill Cowher. So with the announcement of his retirement I find my self emotionally moved. Much more so than when the Freaking Raiders make a coaching change. I don't really remember the Steelers without Cowher. I can close my eyes and picture him on the sideline, persevering, mostly winning and finally, triumphantly hoisting the Vince Lombardi Trophy.

It's not like the guy died, but I'll miss him there, brow furrowed, calling the shots on the sideline. I would thank my Aunt I guess, if she were still alive, for planting that seed back in 78. Or maybe the Kendalls for having that AM radio hit back then. I mean holy shit, I might have blurted "Dallas Cowboys" or something to my Aunt. I was lucky in my choice because Coach Cowher earned my respect and left me with a sentimental favorite I can root for year after year. I hope his replacement continues in his footsteps.