Does this make me a fan?

It's 1:20AM here in Bag-city, and I'm awake, showered, rested (not really, but I keep hoping that if I say that I am, I'll start to believe it), and ready to head over to the Palace to watch Penn State take on Notre Dame, or as I call it, the Greater South Bend Parochial School for Troubled Youth.

I have been pretty quiet about this game all week, other than my mid-week gloat at the Domers loss to Georgia Tech, which, as the brother of an Tech alumna (I almost said the brother of a Ramblin' Wreck, but that just didn't sound right..sorry Jules), I am perfectly entitled to do without upsetting my college football karma.

I have absolutely no connection to Appalachian State, so for my snarky finger-pointing at Mee-choke-in's loss to the Mountaineers, I assume all risks.

Speaking of which, thanks, once again, to the wi-fi gods, I see that Michigan is having it handed to them by Oregon as the second half comes to a close. I have no claim on the Ducks, but I do have an Uncle that calls Portland home, even though he has been living in Korea for five years, and I spent a day in Medford and a night in Portland last summer. My connection to Oregon is attenuated at best, but not so much so as to put Penn State at risk tonight...insha'allah.

Honestly, I have been so excited, and nervous, about this game, and finally unleashed my Penn State pride yesterday, when I subjected everyone in my section to the rousing sounds of the Blue Band. Sadly, the music only seemed to rouse me, while amusing a couple of people, and seriously annoying others, who asked if they were going to have to listen to this all season long. For those who voiced annoyance, I threatened to voice the lyrics to every Penn State fight song known to man, or at least to me. (One of the annoyed is a Nebraska fan, who grudgingly remembers the most famous Penn State-Nebraska game in history, 1982. That instant classic featured Mike McCloskey's catch on the the Nebraska 2-yard line, demonstrated the use of our "creative" sidelines in Beaver Stadium's south end zone, and set Penn State up for its first national championship. And, at the same time, knocked the Huskers out of the running for the national title. My reminding him that Nebraska stole the 1994 championship right out from under our nose didn't seem to help. Lucky for me, he's a civilian and can't carry a weapon.)

Finally, today was my day to bust out my favorite Penn State hat around the office--my 15-year old, beat-up, broken-in, been around the world from Altoona to Afghanistan, Harrisburg to Hong Kong, Baltimore to Bahrain to Baghdad, favorite hat.

There's being nervous and cool about a game before it happens, and then there's me today. Call me overly superstitious, or blinded by the fog or war, or whatever you like, but, being mindful of my promise not the rock the football karma boat, I was playing it extra safe. Towering over one of the main streets here in the IZ is the Jerusalem Gate, topped with a replica of Jerusalem’s golden Dome of the Rock. The dome on that gate is G-O-L-D gold, my Penn State brothers and sisters, and it's been taunting me all week. I can see it from my duty station at work, and we have to drive under it to go just about anyplace. Today, I had to run over to the Al Rasheed hotel for a meeting, and I made the person who I was driving with stop, so that I could get out of the truck and walk around the dome and be picked up on the other side...there was no way that I was walking under that thing today.

Why has that thing been following me around all week!?!

My Iraqi friends just look at me like they don't get it, and with what they face just to come to work every day, I can't blame them. BUT, I do have to remind them that we had to take cover when the Iraqi national soccer team won the Asian Cup in late July because half of Baghdad decided that shooting AK-47s up in the air is more fun than clapping and cheering. Let's hope that doesn't catch on in Beaver Canyon.

So, off I go...seriously, it's almost 2AM, and I'm going to start watching the Penn State Nittany Lions whack around that little Irish dude with the funny hat and pointy shoes. And I'm going to go out and wade through a sand storm that's been blowing for about 36 hours to do it. (Take my word for it; napalm in the morning has nothing on a lung-full of Baghdad's best grit).

To Bag-town's own Golden Dome, I say "bring it on", and we'll see who's taunting whom in the morning. (Of course that "bring it on" thing hasn't worked out so well for us in Iraq...but too late, I said it.)

FOR THE GLORY!
Rob