Not a one of you would be surprised to learn that I couldn't have cared less who won the Superbowl, even if the game was played a mere 20 or so miles west of here, at Glendale. Where I come from we'd call it a suburb of Phoenix but I now know better than to commit that sin. I still remember the withering glance I got from a waitress in a restaurant in Huntington Beach when I made the mistake of saying it was in Los Angeles. Hey, I'm used to seeing world maps that show a blob called Los Angeles that encompasses the area within fifty miles!
Andrew spent the weekend in a Patriotic fervor, undaunted by Giants. Came the game itself and he shocked me by forsaking, for the second time in a week, World of Warcraft and gluing himself to the TV set. I suppose I shouldn't have been shocked; he'd been talking about the Patriots all week, with 'we're going to win' this and 'we're going to kick ass' that, and so on.
In the event the Giants won. A doleful Andrew emerged from his room and announced that 'they lost'. A pointed question or two to put that news into its proper context and I asked 'don't you mean *we* lost?'. No, he affirmed, 'we' didn't lose, 'they' lost.
This isn't the first time I've observed this phenomena. Last summer when the Phoenix baseball team (whatever they're called) was on top it was 'we won' but when they lost a game it was 'they lost'.
I fear it's going to take some time to make him understand the concept of the fairweather friend!