I dreamed, the other night, that the Pittsburgh Steelers had been sold to Steve Wynn and would be playing football in a new, $3 billion domed stadium that externally resembled the Roman Pantheon. Their new cheerleaders, the Vestal Virgins, were so saucy that only night broadcasts would televise their routines. During halftime, faux gladiatorial combats were staged and the winner was granted his freedom by the great emperor, Elvis Impersonatorus. The legions of muted fans sipped on mocha lattes and watched the world's largest keno board between plays. Moreover, as a paean to the great city they now represented, Las Vegas, their name was changed to the "Stealers."

		Robert Biller lives in Fombell, Beaver County (briadob@peoplepc.com).

Upon awakening, I was devastated -- not because the dream had been so lucid it seemed real, but because I realized it was only a fantasy. I would have to endure another football season in Pittsburgh.

Training camp is in full swing and a large portion of every newscast is devoted to how the team is progressing. Who cares? I know I don't.

I was a student at St. Vincent College when the Steelers first decided to use its facilities. Two things I remember are that the players' heights were embellished and Terry Hanratty was a great guy who enjoyed schmoozing with students at the Mission Motor Inn bar, while drinking beer and smoking a cigar. A few hundred fans milled around campus and the word "bums" frequently fell upon my ears.

This summer thousands of the faithful will make the pilgrimage to Latrobe and most derogatory words will be reserved for opponents.

But, I digress. My coming out of the closet -- or should it be locker? -- is meant to give support and solace to the many liberated local individuals who reject citizenship in the Steelers Nation. Not every person in Western Pennsylvania bleeds "black and gold" and lives vicariously through the exploits of Pittsburgh's gridiron gods.

If the local fans think they are nationally admired because of the Steelers, they are delusional. Recently in the Post-Gazette, a newcomer to the area said before coming to Pittsburgh she thought the region was inhabited by beer-drinking hillbillies who watched football. Enough said!

We, PASS (Pittsburghers Against Steelers Sycophants) members, wish the Steelers and their fans well. That said, media football coverage never ceases and its mind-numbing saturation is almost unbearable for apostates.

If you avoid the front page and Sports section of the Post-Gazette, you can keep abreast of current events and local news sans football. If you must watch TV, try WQED (but be prepared to view pledge breaks and coverage of the Pittsburgh Symphony's Vatican trip. Nevertheless, I love the cooking shows and keep fantasizing that Nancy Polinsky will hit Chris Fennimore with a rolling pin when he interrupts her). Even church services are dangerous. Prior to big games, local ministers frequently ask God to favor the Steelers; I seriously doubt He cares. Imagining God, sitting on His throne, while waving a "Terrible Towel" and shouting Dee-Fense is a solipsistic moment.

There are pleasant perks if you ignore professional football. During a broadcast, you can take advantage of empty golf courses and movie theaters. Normally bustling supermarkets are sparsely populated and if, on the off chance, you are accidentally wounded in one of Pittsburgh's drive-by shootings, you will receive emergency room treatment quicker than, oh, say, Ben Roethlisberger.

For men, social ostracism by your male coworkers is a given. Many female peers, however, will find you refreshingly unique, especially if your Sunday afternoons are spent in the gym or at cultural events and not in a sports bar.

The savings you realize by avoiding Steelers clothing merchandise is better invested in true sartorial panache. For the price of an ugly, NFL-sanctioned black-and-gold hoodie that makes you look like a fat, numbered bumblebee, you can purchase a Polo shirt and Dockers pants, a la Brad Pitt. Why spend a small fortune for a wardrobe that is appropriate only one day a year -- Halloween?

I'm not asserting that being a rabid Steelers fan is neurotic, but devoting much of your time and many of your resources to following, viewing, analyzing, discussing and supporting a for-profit professional sports franchise that could not care less about you or yours stretches the definition of sanity.

This anti-Steelers promulgation should not give offense but only suggest that not every warm body in the region anxiously anticipates the annual return of pigskin pugilism. Benjamin Franklin was wrong: In Pittsburgh, there are three certainties -- death, taxes and incessant, interminable, multimedia Steelers coverage.