For Football Fans Everywhere - YOU MADE ME WEAR SPARKLES!

I was going to get into a long preamble. One about how my father was a nationally recognized athlete and sports fanatic who married a woman who couldn't stand televised competitions of any sort (sports, Olympics, even The Price Is Right) and who raised three daughters who were largely more concerned with halftime shows than anything else happening on the field.

My preamble was also going to mention something about how my sister, Healy was living in Boston when the Sox finally won the World Series and how it changed her baseball ambivalence forever. And about how my sister, Samantha, has slowly become a rabid Pats fan who knows enough about football that she and Ish talked for HOURS about the game over the holidays.

And then, yes. Something also about how my husband has an encyclopedic knowledge of everything sports-related and a true, thorough loving for sports that reminds me of my father's in very sentimental ways. Ways that want me to encourage BOTH my children to watch games with their dad and make local fandom a family thing. Go Giants! And holy hell! GO NINERS!!!

But um. I'll skip all that. Instead, I give you this. When true fandom goes horribly, horribly wrong.

It's not hard to imagine me being this girl. Not hard at all.