There I was, in hostile territory, proudly wearing my Turner jersey, surviving the heckling (never as bad as Oakland though,) waiting for my moment. 7-0. Standing up, motioning touchdown like I was the Ref. A few less than polite "sit down"s were directed my way.

Roddy White. 31 yd TD. I could sense it being a big day for that man.

via photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net

So unassuming.

9ers try and stage a mini-comeback. I'm taking a lot of heat now. I sit there in quiet while a particularly obnoxious fan keeps yelling "What now, dirty bird?"

And then, glory. 90 yds. Roddy White. The incendiary/explosive debate for Steve Smith? Well Roddy is both. Touchdown. I calmly stand up, motion TD, and then proceed to do the dirty bird. Right in that fans face. He starts turning red. 9ers red, not Falcons red. (Not much of a difference I decided).

Pick. Strip. Dre Bly is an idiot. Turner, touchdown. Fan gets more of the dirty bird. Turner TD again! I didn't even do it this time, instead announcing that I was tired because the Falcons were scoring too much.

Fans were leaving at half-time. One guy thought it would be prudent to say "How many super bowls do your Falcons have? That's right, shut the -- up." I just laughed. Said "Scoreboard" and looked away.

The stadium was silent by the time the 4th started. I felt like if I celebrated anymore, it would be like stepping on a puppy. I sat quietly, did a golf clap for Ryan's rushing TD, and left about the time when they started kneeling.

On my way out, I heard a 5 or 6 year old kid Frank Gore say to his dad "I thought this was going to be fun."

45-10. Go Birds.