Summer is over.
Baseball is not enough.
We need something bigger. And tonight, we finally get what we want.
It's the NFL. It's Steelers-Titans. And this week, it counts.
And now, folks, gaze upon the logo and, unless you're a citizen of the Pittsburgh Nation, cower in fear:
For the next 18 weeks, this is the logo to chase. Our Steelers are the defending Super Bowl champions. This is Sixburgh Football, going for the second ring for the second hand. We are the ones to beat. No sports writer outside of New England would dare rank the Patriots above the Steelers. Those that do shall be shown the errors of their ways.
Smash-mouth. In your face. Hard-hitting. Bone-crunching. Blue-collar. Blitzburgh.
Just three more hours, and the season begins. It's Football Season, kids! Grab your tortilla chips and salsa, because we're getting ready to go to war.
Let us sort-of pray:
Oh, made-up Gods of Sport and Competition, look down upon the Steeler nation with favor this night. Give our gladiators the strength, drive, and will to drive for the ball, find the open man, plug the hole, sack the quarterback, and otherwise maketh the most holy Big Play. Grant them favor when the zebra man throweth his tiny yellow flag, and give the replay official high-def picture and clarity of vision during challenges. In the name of the Lombardi, The Tomlin, and the Holy Bradshaw, rAmen.Are you ready for some football? You'd best fucking believe I am!