It's a foregone conclusion that one of my favorite movies of all time is "(500) Days of Summer" (2009). That is not up for debate. I think it's a great movie, an even better story, and if Joseph Gordon−Levitt's character were female I'd have a colossal celebrity crush on her.
To that end, one of my favorite lines in the movie is when Zooey Deschanel and Gordon−Levitt are in a record store, talking about The Beatles. When told that no one loves Ringo Starr, Deschanel replies, "That's what I love about him."
This accurately describes my feelings towards the Pittsburgh Steelers.
On Sunday night, there was a football game, which I guess happens on every Sunday night from September to early February. The Green Bay Packers defeated the Pittsburgh Steelers 31−25 behind Game MVP Aaron Rodgers' 304 yards and three touchdowns. Ben Roethlisberger couldn't engineer a last−minute comeback, Eminem starred in two phenomenal commercials and Fergie danced like one of those wacky−waving−inflatable−arm−flailing−tube guys.
I'm not interested in the outcome of the game. I'm interested in the general hatred felt towards the Steelers in the weeks leading up to Super Bowl XLV. Now, I concede that the majority of America — sans the general Pittsburgh area, Wiz Khalifa and anyone who thought "Black and Yellow" has a hot beat — was rooting for the Packers. The question is, why?
In sports, it's impossible to root for one team and not instantly hate the other. Active cheering for Team X implies active opposition to Team Y. We then create villains to justify this hatred. The good guys versus the bad guys. The superheroes versus the anti−heroes. Justice will prevail.
In this situation, the Steelers are easy to loathe. Roethlisberger deserves to lose, some say, because of his sexual−assault allegations, especially when compared to a down−to−earth golden boy like Rodgers, who's a saint when contrasted with his lewd text−messaging predecessor. Hines Ward smiles too much. James Harrison is a dirty player. Mike Tomlin looks like Omar Epps, who, I guess, some don't like. The list of transgressions is endless for those who seek the Holy Grail of Hatred.
All this shouldn't make the Steelers more disliked as a franchise. But it's important here to distinguish between the whole and the sum of the parts. We project our animosity on the entire Pittsburgh franchise, when we really hate the fact that an alleged rapist spent Sunday in the Super Bowl and not in prison.
But this also has a lot to do with America's love for what the Packers embody. Villlains need good guys, for balance. Rodgers is squeaky−clean, Green Bay is a non−profit organization and the Packers are as community−oriented as professional teams come.
From a football standpoint, the Packers entered the Super Bowl simultaneously as the underdogs and as the favorites. They became the first NFC sixth seed in history to win the Super Bowl, and took down three top seeds en route to Dallas. In doing so, they captured our hearts and became the trendy choice.
Somehow, though, amid the plate of homemade nachos and stacked pizza boxes, I found myself rooting for the Steelers to overcome the 11−point halftime deficit. Maybe that's because I have the "Rudy" (1993) complex. Maybe I'm not really interested in hopping on the bandwagon of America's Teams. Maybe I don't care that the majority of America loves the Packers with equal parts admiration for Rodgers, love for that Greg Jennings YouTube video and hatred for Roethlisberger.
Because ultimately, the majority's enmity can be the most appealing trait of all.
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