Man. You're so old that on your first birthday you couldn't blow out the candles on your birthday cake because they didn't HAVE fire yet.
As for me, since 1975. Literally opened the newspaper and picked them as my team. Before that I was on the Dolphins bandwagon like a lot of the other kids in my neighborhood.
There's a point to be made here (I'm not sure what, but there is).
Perhaps it's that certain events and "signposts" that have deep meaning for us, often lurking somewhere in our deep unconscious.
The "Buckeyes" from Ohio State ("Buck" was a Western term and The Lone Ranger was my childhood hero.
Or perhaps it was my peewee QB, Bob Craft's terminology in the huddle (No "Omahas" or fancy numbers. Just simply "Single Wing Right - Schulte on a cutback off tackle)."
Or the colorful bright red Fox Meadow elementary school jerseys or the black &"white Edgewood School unis (Memo to the late Al Davis - I know deep down that the Raiders stole the Edgewood colors).
Helmets were special - Edgewood's helmets were metallic gold...the late summer's ritual,when the neighborhood kids would drop off their helmets at the Pierce's garage to have them painted for the season.
Later on in life, members of the family would enjoy large breakfasts at the Madison Delicatessin before catching the Lex subway to watch the Giants game at Yankee Stadium (last row/end zone seats). (My family members were all Giant rooters, but my eyes would be glued to the scoreboard for the latest Cardinal update).
Cardinals were so bad in the sixties that my Dad would ask me: "Why are you sitting shiva* over that bunch?" (I had no logical comeback - just kept rooting for the Cards. Still do).
I guess the point I'm trying to make is that "life chuggs merrily along but the Cards - for good or bad - will always be there as "signposts" to anchor us as we continue on our way."
* "Sitting shiva" is a Jewish tradition observed when someone close to a family dies.
Note - somewhere in the above deck of memories was an epic NJ to Arz trip to help root the Cardinals past the hated Cowboys (aka "Team Felon."). It was the game where Butthead won it for us on a bank-shot FG. Got to spend quality time with a bunch of Card fans (you know who you are). On the plane ride home (dressed in sweat-stained shorts, tee and Buddy Ryan plantation hat), I fell asleep only to be woken at the stop in Detroit by a bunch of auto industry marketing execs traveling to NYC on business. (Now I have faint knowledge of how a homeless person must feel).
