Every year I tell myself I'm not gonna buy into the hype. I'm gonna stand back and observe. Then they do something crazy. Terrell Owens, Mario Williams, LeSean McCoy. Then, like a dog going back to his abuser, because it's the only life he's ever known, here I am, Sunday at noon, glued to the TV thinking it's gonna be different this year, just to have my hopes crushed. I'd like to say I want to give up, but I can't. I've never, not even in a fit of anger after a loss, denounced my fanhood. I know I'll be here next year, win lose or draw, becauase hope springs eternal. It's put a strain on many relationships, romantic, platonic, and professional, because I let the stress get to me. I daydream, and get chills when I think about the day that we finally hoist that Lombardi trophy. Generations of my family have passed on, never seeing that glorious day. I hope my father is still alive, hell, I hope I'm still alive when it happens. Will all of this dedication and loyalty ever pay off? Why do I dedicate my life to a team that's been mediocre at best for most of my life? Am I addicted? What is love? This is what I think about in line, and I came here for an opinon. Fries or onion rings?