Stay with me. Time is of the essence.

I write my columns a week before they are published.

Right now it's two hours before kickoff on Jan. 22, even though my column won't be posted on the Post-Gazette Web site until Jan. 29. So I don't have the results of the Steelers-Broncos AFC Championship title game.

But I am sitting here, Jan. 22, in my black and gold clothing: a Big Ben 7 button on my black sweater, a Steelers championship button from Super Bowl XIV on my gold jacket.

It seems silly to dress like this, but I'm compelled. It's the same pride-driven mentality which had me tape five Steeler signs on my front door. It's not house beautiful. It is simply a house where a "proud to be a Steeler fan" lives.

I sat in this same spot for the Steelers-Colts game a week ago, Jan. 15, (remember the time frame in which I am writing) and when we had just four minutes left to play, safely ahead, I left to drive home, figuring I'd listen to the final minutes on my car radio.

Of course the heroics began, and I missed them all until I got home and saw the replays on television -- the fumble, the tackle, the missed field goal -- the win.

That car weaving through Schenley Park with a gray-haired female driver clutching the wheel until her knuckles were as white as her hair -- that would be me.

What's my point? I think you know. Supporting the Steelers, no matter what. It's what I'm thinking as I anticipate the exhilaration or the despair after the game.

If we won, I'm proud to be from Pittsburgh, proud of the players, Couch Cowher and the fans. Very proud.

If we lost, I'm proud to be from Pittsburgh, proud of the players, Coach Cowher and the fans. Very proud.

I hope all of you feel the same way. Let's not forget the thrill of the ride, the appreciation for a game which allows us to do silly things: decorate Dippy the dinosaur at Carnegie Museum in black and gold, walk our dog in his Steeler poncho, paint our faces and meet and greet perfect strangers with a boastful "Go Stillers."

If we could only keep this pride and friendliness in our community well beyond what we call football season.

Frankly, my stomach is already in knots. I believe we can do it, but I am sure Denver fans feel the same. I am heading home to watch the game in the privacy of my living room. That's because of the proximity of my basement, where I tend to do loads of wash when the going gets tough in a game and I can't bear to watch. I escape to the basement and listen for the cheers from the television upstairs to relate who is winning or losing. I'm chicken.

I know. It's a little sick. My son calls after games, win or lose, and leaves a message, "Where are you? In the basement, or the emergency room?"

Actually, during games, they're one and the same.

I used to walk my dog when I couldn't bear to watch a close game situation, but without a pet at the moment, I am considering offering to walk my neighbor's Lab, Bailey, if the going gets rough.

By the time you read this, I will either have washed everything not nailed down, or have become a champion neighborhood dog-walker, or I will have sat comfortably for several hours without a care in the world as we confidently win and look forward to the Super Bowl.

Fortunately, it was the latter.

As I end this column, my editor has added a postscript: We won, 34-17. On to the Super Bowl.