Your RAM love, I'm talking! I'm a long-time LA RAMS fan, BRAND NEW NERD to this site, and so COMPLETELY stoked they are back home where they belong. I wanna hear your stories!
For me it was 1977, and I was in the 4th grade. We were a military family, and had just moved from Virginia to Kansas.
Now, as a kid in Virginia, we followed baseball. Every kid played little-league baseball from basically the time they could walk. We played wiffle-ball on the street corners, and in back yards, and actual baseball wherever we could.
But for whatever reason, in Kansas it was different. Football was the thing. Which was weird; in 1977 the George Brett-fueled Royals were dominant, and the Chiefs stunk. But no, for my class of 4th graders, it was all about pro football. Recess was all about two-hand touch (or two-hand shove-into-the-dirt), and half of my classmates were all Dallas Cowboy fans. Even my dad loved Roger Staubach.
By the third week I realized I would have to choose a team to be my own.
And there was no way it was going to be the Dallas Cowboys.
(Or the Chiefs. They really stunk!)
I knew a LITTLE bit of the Rams. I knew they had Joe Namath, even if he didn't play much. Every kid knew Joe Namath. But he wasn't enough to draw me to them.
The playoffs rolled around, and I decided to actually WATCH a game. As it happened, it was Vikings vs. Rams, in what would later be termed the "Mud Bowl," and ... let me tell you, if you can take yourself back to those days... A kid, watching on a black-and-white television set... and absolutely captivated by what was unfurling before my eyes. Two teams, drenched in rain, caked in mud... two teams with cool HORNS on their helmets, SLAMMING into each other, over and over again, sliding all over the field...
It was crazy. And it was like a religious experience. By halftime I realized ONE of these teams would be MINE. I just had to choose.
I chose the Rams.
They lost. (Maybe shoulda took the hint, no?)
(Though hindsight being what it is, thank god I didn't choose the Vikings. Zero rings and a hatred for one's own kicker that is real.)
(Ring? Why yes, thank you. God bless you, Greatest Show on Turf; God bless you, Mike Jones.)
Followed 'em ever since. Jack Youngblood, Jim Youngblood (no relation). Vince Ferragamo, Lawrence McCutcheon. Wendell Tyler and his fumbles and his end zone prayer. Tony Zendejas. John Robinson and Ground Chuck. Erik Dickerson. Crissy Everett. Dieter freaking Brock. Jerome Bettis, Isaac Bruce (who I just KNEW would be great, not lying)!
As an adult I moved to Los Angeles--well, Orange County, to be precise...
... but it was two years after the Rams had already left for St. Louis. Timing is everything, right?
Doesn't matter where they play; I'll love 'em. They're my Rams, and clearly they are your Rams. I bleed blue and gold and... millennium blue... or whatever that ugly color is.
And they're home again.
So how'd it begin for you?
Autumn is Coming.