It’s a Jungle Out There

I sit with more than 65,000 people in a stadium called The Jungle. From the stands we see barges, motorboats, and ski jets stream by on the Ohio River. On the other side, trucks, vans, and cars pass on Interstate 71. To my left are the buildings of Covington, Kentucky. To my right, the skyline of Cincinnati. And all around me on this first home game of the season is orange, orange, orange.

Except for a sprinkling, a sparse sprinkling, of teal.

I’ve got to own up. While I like going to games with my husband, I’m not there for the football. It’s the atmosphere and energy and suspense. Today I’m taken by the camaraderie of all the people wearing orange.

Also by the steadfast loyalty of those wearing teal.

Despite the sea of orange around them, they stand and cheer each time the teal makes a sack or a field goal or a touchdown.

Though I don’t say this to my husband, I’ve got sympathy for the teal. I’ve also worn the shirt of another color. I’ve dressed as others haven’t , said what others didn’t, and thought in different paths. I’ve worn teal in a sea of orange.

The game is close. And its end is near. At two minutes to go, we’re all at attention, the orange and the teal.

In the last 18 seconds, orange scores. And wins. I’ve got a happy husband, for sure.

We all leave this sports arena they call The Jungle. Inside the stadium, we were civil to each other, even kind.

And I hope we all, orange and teal, carry this civility with us into the real jungle.