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Syracuse football: Hey Pitt, you’re jerkfaces and we don't like you

I have a letter to the college I almost went to and is in the city I tangentially call home.

Pittsburgh v Cincinnati Photo by Andy Lyons/Getty Images

Dear Pitt,

Hello. I don’t think we’ve talked much since 2011, when I was a naive 18 year old looking to go to school close to home who bought blue and gold gear after being accepted in October. Since then, I’ve learned the error of my ways, ditching a generic cat for a much more unique Orange that has an absolute magician at quarterback.

I know I spurned you those years ago, and you’ve made me pay. The football has been... less than ideal and the basketball has been the closest thing to a rock fight I’ve seen since taking the walking tour in Oakland. We know things are looking bleak, oh, so bleak, and I don’t want to seem like a dick for kicking a cat when it’s down.

But here’s the thing: I really, really, really, really, really, really, do not like you. And I know, we’re not rivals. You’ve got those crazy drunk cousins to deal with, even if they don’t come around as much as they used to, and those cow farmers who don’t want to play you. We’ve got some rejected offspring of Satan and, well, something, that occupies much of our attention. But somehow, your team causes me more anger on a football field than anyone else who ends up on a football field with us.

Maybe it’s because we’ve seen you on a football field more than anyone else. Maybe it’s because we play you in a glorified ketchup bottle that’s so much fun on Sundays, but feels like a sunflower funeral home on Saturdays. Maybe it’s because you successfully got your old school script back, and I’m (not so) secretly jealous. Maybe it’s because since 2005, your head coach is a rotating cast of Western PA Uncles and that confuses me. Maybe it’s because you’re clearly the noon-iest team, and yet ‘Cuse ends up with that label in casual conversation.

So yeah, the relationship is complicated, much like the feelings brought on by sticking copious amounts of coleslaw and french fries on a sandwich. Or making a bowl but being send to Birmingham. Or being offered a beer and getting I.C. Light. But there’s hate. And that’s enough to get me through this week.

Eat Sh*t.


A Western PA Native ‘Cuse Fan Who Really Wants to Beat You Guys