I love the NFL.

But when the NFL Shop catalog arrived in my mailbox this week, it became clear that I do not love the NFL enough.

Yes, I suffer from a pathological loyalty to my hometown Philadelphia Eagles, an allegiance that has survived extended residencies in the lands of the Colts, Rams, and Patriots (all of whom, perhaps not coincidentally, have won Super Bowls since my departure from the Illadelph, whilst my Iggles are now 0-for-XLI); a fealty that has stood fast through 3-13 and 5-11 (and 7-9 and 6-10) as well as 11-5 and 13-3; a devotion that has weathered Bobby Hoying and Bubby Brister, Mike Mamula and Antone Davis, Marion Campbell and Rich Kotite. But I do not own a Colony Sportswear Blazer, featuring “embroidered team logos and custom piping in team colors on the inside of the jacket,” in my team colors. In other words, no Eagles logos brighten the lining of my sport coat. Can I really say that I am loyal enough?

I have long been proud of my ability to name several NFL referees besides Ed Hochuli without consulting the Internets, and I take great (perhaps undue) satisfaction in knowing that NFL refs have two options when it comes to britches (white knickers and black pants). To many people this would mark me as some sort of superfan, if not a savant, but I own neither a nutcracker (“tufts of black ‘hair’ and ‘beard’ add to the authenticity,” the catalog reads, though to the authenticity of what I’m not sure) nor an animated lawn figure, a “high-quality 44” wire hologram lawn figure … covered with 150 lights,” emblazoned with my team logo. Indeed, without these marks of NFL enthusiasm, what kind of fan am I?

Sure, sure, I pay a small ransom for NFL Sunday Ticket, which allows me, every Sunday, not only to obsessively follow my fantasy football players (in both leagues) and drive my wife to the fringe of seizure with my spastic, game-to-game-to-game channel surfing, but also enables me to watch—on purpose, I might add—NFL contests between two teams mathematically eliminated from playoff contention, whose rosters include not one gentleman whose on-field performance affects my fantasy fortunes, simply because I like to watch. And yet, how obsessive can I be if I do not broadcast my obsession to my neighbors by projecting the Eagles logo, or perhaps even the NFL shield, on the side of my house with the Sportscaster Light Projector and compatible Projector Slides?

My “love” for the league has pulled me through the turnstiles of NFL stadia in Arizona, Atlanta, Baltimore, Chicago, Green Bay, Indianapolis, Kansas City, Minnesota, Philadelphia, and St. Louis, often on occasions not involving the Eagles, because I believe that if one is presented with the opportunity to eat bratwurst in the Lambeau parking lot or barbecue outside Arrowhead, or to boo the Bears or the Rams or the Ravens live and in person, one must take that opportunity, even if it means paying eight dollars for a plastic cup of beer and having jeers (and sometimes aforementioned beers) tossed in your general direction. And yet, here I am, supposed “fan,” tailgating before these games without so much as a Kolder NFL Team Bottle Jersey or Great American Products Can Holder Set to keep my beer cold.

I freely admit that the most treasured trinkets of my youth are my gumball-machine football helmets, accumulated throughout the 70s and early 80s, one quarter at a time, which to this day are displayed in a place of prominence in my living room, beside the television (where they can best soak up the NFL vibes emanating from NFL Sunday Ticket), and I confess to experiencing a sense of both awe and jealously upon learning of Bill Jones, King of Gumball Machine Helmets. Yet still I wonder: Am I fan enough? For I have never once considered purchasing a Game Time Schedule Watch, which “displays a complete programmed team schedule” and “plays a melody at the start of each game as a reminder.”

Some people may consider the NFL Shop catalog a place to find the right holiday gift for that obsessive football fan on their list, but I consider it something else: a test of my love. And it’s a test that I am failing.

Shamed, then, I come to you for help. If you could find it in your heart to help me boost my test score this holiday season, I know I would look great (and feel better about myself) in the Reebok 2007 Alternate Draft Hat or the Reebok Sideline Team Valiant Hooded Fleece.

I wear a large.