Sports allegiances in my family run long and thus deep.
Thank goodness I was born in a state with no professional football team, otherwise my from-birth, genetically-required Packers fan-ship might have been tested by a few school-yard scraps. A busted lip would have attested to the fact that I bled green and gold.
Once I actually lived in Wisconsin, I learned it is possible for a person, as well as an entire state, to bleed four different colors: green and gold (Packers), and red and white (Badgers). Those caught bleeding blue and gold (Michigan), green and white (Michigan State), or maroon and gold (Minny-sotah), are summarily deported across a great lake of some ilk.
Adding crimson and white to the blood rainbow was possible only because Harvard bleeds your bank account dry at the same time. Without the infusion, one would surely die....or defect to Yale. In which case I think they revoke your diploma. So death.
The cream and crimson of Indiana University has been a long-time lurker because they account for two of the six degrees in the Beebe household. Their time finally came when, just as The Support Staffers received appropriate university apparel my first Christmas in Cambridge, I received appropriate university apparel The Support Staffers' first Christmas in Indiana.
Now I've moved south. Away from the NFC. Away from the Ivy League. Away from the Big Ten (Twelve? Thirteen?). Away from green, gold, crimson(s), red, white, and cream.
I've moved to the land of burnt orange and white. This is a new allegiance, tenuous at best right now, and thus not very deep.
So for Father's Day, I made a peace offering of sorts:
and included a get-out-of-jail-free card:
To my Dad, on Father's Day: Thank you for always being there for me, teaching me to never give up on anything, and not letting the fact that I'm a girl get in the way of showing me what this whole sports thing was all about. Love you Dad! - KEB
P.S. And if they still give you grief, just tell them the burnt orange brings out the blue in your eyes.