The day Dallas lost to the Baltimore Colts in the superbowl. My brother, who is 1.5 years older than me, and I really were pretty different kids. He was a natural athlete and I really didn't have any interest in sports, though I really looked up to him (when we weren't fighting). We had a royal arse for a step father and that day he and his son were watching the game on a color television upstairs and my brother was watching the game downstairs on a black and white, uninvited upstairs. While I was in the house I never saw a play, wasn't interested. The two upstairs were being loud jerks the whole game trying to get to my brother. I remeber like it was yesterday, towards the end of the game (was it a late field goal that won it?) I walked past the room my brother was in and he was staring at the picture with his chin on his hands and tears were streaming down his face. We were already too hardened to let my stepfather see our emotions so I knew it was something else, I just remeber thinking what could be so important and mean that much to my brother. The next day I started learning about the Cowboys. One of the proudest moments in my life came a couple of years later when me and my brother and stepfather were eating supper one sunday and the Cowboys were playing, we were watching the game on a small portable TV at the table. The game came down to a late field goal and Dallas won, I leapt from the table shouting in excitement and my stepfather looked at my brother in utter disgust as if he'd turned me into a drug addict and said "see what you've done".
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