BroncosZone search:
Selected BroncosZone searches:
Players Broncos Picks Injuries Projections Rookies Blogs Superbowl
Orangins: Becoming a Bronco Fan in New York
Published: May 15, 2009
It happens at an early age.
Your first words, your first steps, your first day of school. Childhood milestones to be sure.
But come on, we’re talking about something more important than speaking, walking, and early education (after all, I’m typing this on a laptop while sitting down—and I am pretty sure I didn’t learn Microsoft Word in kindergarten.)
What I am referring to is becoming a fan of your favorite team. In my case, it’s being a Denver Bronco fan while growing up in New York.
How does that happen, you may ask? I should be a Jets or Giants fan, right? Or in the very least, a fan of one of those ‘national following’ teams: Cowboys, Steelers…
In a New York word: No. (expletives deleted)
Since 1977, I have bled orange and blue. It’s more blue than orange these days, but the Bronco blood continues to flow through me, and always will. And it all started in a place so not Denver, so not the Mountain time zone—the beach.
As a child, my family would spend a lot of summers at Jones Beach on Long Island. I couldn’t swim yet, so I built sand castles and basically complained it was too hot.
“I’m thirsty,” was my catchphrase. Still is, spoken more to my bartender than my mother these days.
My grandfather would take me to the snack bar. Quite a walk from his cabana, and my feet still bear the scars of scorching sand and being stuck with every sharp object ever imagined sticking up from it.
The reward for this trek would turn out to be a refreshing drink, and lifelong loyalty.
Bright orange, served in bright orange cups. A stark contrast from brown colas in plain styrofoam. It was different than the norm, and that’s what I wanted to drink.
Fast forward to football season. In the pre-Sunday Ticket/ESPN/Internet days, it was Jets and Giants games on Sundays in New York. The thrill of Richard Todd throwing picks at Shea Stadium. Joe Pisarcik fumbling away a win in the Meadowlands.
Are you kidding me?
Like those days at the snack bar, I would soon be in for an orange-tinged treat. During halftime highlights, I saw them. Bright, alive, appealing to a three-year-old.
The jerseys worn by the Broncos. Not blue, green, or black. Orange—different than the norm.
“Wow, who are they?” I asked. I was told about the ‘D’ on the helmet standing for Denver. The Broncos having their first successful season. And the Orange Crush.
Wait a minute, I drank that at the beach, I said. They call their defense, “Orange Crush,” was the reply. I didn’t know what a defense was (apparently, neither did Mike Shanahan the last few years), or where Denver was. All I knew was I loved Orange Crush, and now I loved the Broncos. The connection was made.
Oh sure, starting almost immediately, there were attempts to dissuade me. My dad taking me to Jets games. My mom buying me a Cowboys shirt. And my elementary classmates had a few choice words for me, suffice to say.
No matter, I was hooked. Hooked for life.
It has been an orange-addled addiction with highs and lows, from stealing John Elway from Baltimore, to Super Bowl humiliations in the 80’s. But I’ve persevered. And it all started that day at the Jones Beach snack bar.
It took another 20 years before the Broncos won a Super Bowl. They did so after ditching their orange jerseys for blue. No longer different than the norm, but we were world champions.
And they still make Orange Crush.
Sponsored Links
Buy Denver Broncos Tickets, NFL Tickets, Football Tickets and Sports Tickets at StubPass.com.