To the great annoyance of my wife, I am still not a Broncos fan. I'm rooting for them, I hope they win their playoff game, and even the Super Bowl, but there is only one reason for that--the Steelers are out.

Even old work hats must represent the proper teams from Western Pennsylvania. The only exception to this rule is when I occasionally wear the blue and white of my alma mater, Penn State.

My wife is annoyed because I have adopted Colorado as my home, so, according  to her, I should love it or leave it. Apparently, if I'm going to love the state's amazing ski resorts, I have to like the football team, too.

Much of the problem comes from my childhood in Pittsburgh. Since the team won 4 Super Bowls in the 1970's, being a Steeler fan has moved from something that we did on weekends to more of a religion.  Hey, I don't even watch sports that much, and when I admit that I don't have plans to watch a given mid-season Steeler game because I'm actually going to be doing something interesting instead of watching TV, my friends from back home call me nasty names. I was born and raised with a healthy disdain for any football team besides my own, and a belief that life stops on Steeler Sunday. Add to that Pittsburgher's strong sense of independence and pride, combined with little concern for what others think of us, and in the past I could accurately be accused of being obnoxious about football.

This is how we grow up in Pittsburgh...brainwashed from an early age. I'm living proof that it works.

Enter Peyton Manning. While I don't watch much of any sport on TV, what I do enjoy seeing is excellence. Any sport, any activity, if someone is great at it, I can watch it. And Peyton Manning is great. He's once in a lifetime. It was easy to make jokes about Brian Griese, and scoff at Jay Cutler. Even Tim Tebow, as lovable as he is and as many games as he won, was easy to make a heel. But Manning is the man, and I love his pizza, too.

Still, I don't think I can wear official Broncos colors. I tried it once. At the radio station, schwag flows like the Poudre in late May, and I once found a beautifully comfortable, free Broncos hat here. I needed a hat! I put it on. It felt...weird. I thought of what any of my high school or college buddies would have said had they seen me. I went to the mirror. The hat was fetching. It looked fine. Still, something was off. I should have been able to wear the hat. I am a Coloradoan. Not a native, but still, this is my home. I pay Colorado taxes. I vote for Colorado legislators. I breathe Colorado air almost every waking moment of my life. What is wrong with this picture?

I took the hat off and put it back in the schwag bin. I tried, not to be a Bronco fan, but to be appreciative of the Broncos, and for the passion my fellow Coloradoans have for them, But, I failed at this noble attempt to be neighborly. Something in my DNA just won't allow me to wear any teams logo besides those that I really support, and when it comes to football, there is only one team for me. I guess you can take the boy out of the 'Burgh, but you can't take the 'Burgh out of the boy.