My name is Jordan and I am an Atlanta Falcons fan. It takes a lot out of a person to be a proud Falcons fan. Continuously loving a losing team takes unwavering faith, passion, and loyalty. Years of disappointment and constant let down have forced me to develop acceptance of not always succeeding on the first try, and has taught me to never give up on something I love, even when I desperately want to. The thing about the falcons is that even though losing on Sundays seems like it is the norm, right as you have lost all desires to support, they’ll have a game of a lifetime and pull off an unexpected win. A win so beautiful it restores all faith, refills you with hope, and makes you remember why you fell in love with them in the first place. A win so worth it you often forget the rollercoaster of emotions the team has put you through to get there. And while the sweet feeling of victory is thrilling, the best part of being a fan is what comes after the game. The feeling that goes around a packed stadium when the clock hits zero, and the scoreboard reads that we ended with more points than our opponent. The celebration and the cheers, the hugs and high-fives, the pure joy that thousands of strangers can share, as if in the moment nothing else matters. Because in those moments, nothing else does.