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An Open Letter to Atlanta before Super Bowl Sunday

Dear Atlanta,
You beautiful bastion of eclectic diversity. You are a symphony of trap music and southern salutations accompanied by a background choir of “bless their hearts” and honking horns from the 75/85 connector.

The nation’s capital of transience. The southeast’s capital of big-city, cosmopolitan credentials. And, the sports capital of fair-weathered heartbreak. Atlanta is a metropolis full of white collars, red necks, and blue balls from its sports teams.

A city burned by Sherman, assaulted by Hrbek, trampled by Elway, and deafened by the echoes of “we were so close” and “wait till next year.” Few cities have felt the pain and sadness that has jaded the hearts of Atlanta sports fans for decades.

However, only three more days, four more quarters, and one more game – and, the Fifth District might claim its 1st ever Super Bowl Championship. And, the city is alive with pride and hope waiting to welcome that trophy into its outstretched arms of (mostly un)conditional love.

From Follies to The Fox and from The Pink Pony to Peachtree Street(s) the city is painted red and black. And, from Buckhead to Bankhead you deserve it Atlanta.

So, Rise Up Atlanta. Just like Reconstruction, just like the Civil Rights movement, and just like 2017 – Rise. The. Fuck. Up.

Rise Up. Just like you ALWAYS do.

Because Sunday is for EVERY SINGLE one of Y’ALL

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