FanPost

PBS Pulse Week 5

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It's a universal truth that Mondays stink. If you're standing around on a Monday morning complaining to your coworkers that the weekends are never long enough, but get interrupted by someone grinning like the Cheshire Cat, you've probably spotted a Bengals fan.

Sunday had as close a playoff atmosphere as possible for being just the fifth game of the season, thanks to the Seattle Seahawks coming to town to test our Bengals' undefeated record. Opinions from the fans tailgating varied widely: it seemed that most of the Seahawks fans were expecting Dalton to melt against the added hype, while the red-haired and red-hot quarterback was the very source of most Bengals fans' optimism.

With a game this big so early, the wife and I decided to get a little bit weird. I threw on my lucky Nike Zoom Hyperflight Tiger shoes, an orange man suit, Bengals shorts, an orange cape, and a wrestling mask tailored like the helmets. The wife chose a tiger onesie, ears and all.

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That bright orange dot you saw next the the post that Nugent bounced his game-winner against? Hi.

The conversations with fans to start the game were eerily relaxed. No worries about which team would show up, no concerns about our QB, no complaints about anything. Everyone seemed genuinely confident that the Bengals would pull out the win. That confidence only grew as the offense marched down the field with ease for another opening-drive touchdown. High fives were handed out freely as half the stadium sang the fight song, and almost all joined in on the Who Dey chant.

Then, we were down 17 points, and "he" started to speak up.

"He" was probably about five years old, a Seahawks fan in a family of Bengals fans sitting behind me. Have you seen the Tire Rack commercial with the poor guy transporting the Mynah bird? The one that seemed to want to repeat "Row, row, row your boat, row, row, row your boat" infinitely to the point of driving someone mad? This kid was a Mynah bird with blonde hair stuffed into a blue and neon green jersey. "Bengals stink! Sack Dalton! Bengals stink! Sack Dalton!" I was listening to this, sitting under direct sun in a wrestling mask, watching my team down 17 points to one of the best defenses in the league for the last how many years in a row.

Yet, I knew we'd come back.

I heard the comment of "Well, there's playoff Dalton" to my left. I had friends in the seats in front of me, so rather than get into a debate with fellow fans, I directed my thoughts toward my friends. "We scored in a hurry. We've been buried by mistakes and penalties. The Seattle line is starting to tee off on Dalton. That doesn't change the talent we have on the field, and the new QB we saw fight adversity against Baltimore." I turned to the guy to my left and simply said, "We've got this."

Fourth quarter, and Dalton hits Eifert for his second touchdown of the day. The stadium had been quiet in between, with some grumbling at a few missed throws and stuffed runs. Dalton to Eifert ignited Paul Brown Stadium; we were back. I'm always vocal but admittedly saved my voice a bit in between. Now I was loud--sweat pouring into my eyes from my soaked mask, voice cracking, head throbbing with every yell. There were times I yelled so loud for so long that I thought I might pass out. Looking around the stadium I was proudly not alone. With each possession by the Seahawks, the stadium grew louder. I'm not sure there was one person in my section that didn't truly believe the Bengals were driving to score a touchdown during their last possession. We all know it didn't happen, but Nugent was clutch in a hurry and the fans got a chance to catch their breaths.

I'm not sure about the statistics but I thought I'd heard that winning the coin toss in overtime was an advantage. Not in PBS, not Sunday, not if you're Russell Wilson. I looked everywhere and saw an entire stadium full of screaming, yelling, crazy fans willing their team to victory. My obnoxiously loud chants of "DEFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENSE" were being drowned out by similar noise from the first row to the top of the stadium. I caught a glimpse of the little Mynah bird standing in the aisle, fingers in his ears due to the increasing decibel levels, visibly frustrated by what felt inevitable. The devil on my shoulder laughed. So did the angel. The teams exchanged more possessions than any of us wanted, yet the support was unwavering. When Nugent lined up for the winning kick, my poorly timed joke about the Panthers game was met with angry stares. "Hey, second chance, this is his redeeming kick!" I grabbed the wife's hand as we raised our arms like we always do, always assuming the kick will be good. I've never seen a ball rotate so slowly, bending toward that left upright, until--CLANG! We followed the ball into the net, and I instantly scanned the field for anyone announcing the Seahawks called a timeout. No one did. I felt like the last person to jump up in the air, but I made up for it with enthusiasm. I hugged sober fans. I hugged drunk fans. Drunk fans hugged my wife. I wished my friend in front of me a Happy Birthday--what a game to watch while you turn 40. I stood atop my seat waving goodbye to the Seahawks, and to the refs that seemed to want them to win. I turned and watched my little Mynah bird friend climb the stairs in defeat--we've all been there little buddy, but it's not our turn today.

Everything felt different before the game. It was different during the game. Of course, it was different after the game. Sure, everyone yelled out random "Who Dey!" cheers as usual, but this wasn't win from years past. We didn't get lucky to escape an ugly game against a weak team. We expected to win, we rocked Paul Brown Stadium, and the Bengals gave us what we knew they could.

This is a FanPost and does not necessarily reflect the views of Cincy Jungle's writers or editors. It does reflect the views of this particular fan, which is as important as the views of Cincy Jungle's writers or editors.