It was just a glance at first.

On the way to my locker on a Saturday morning, I passed by the equipment window. I saw the Colts' equipment manager, John Scott, affixing small American flags to each helmet. It was December of '90 and Operation Desert Shield was on the verge of becoming Operation Desert Storm.

Having never been an Olympic athlete, patriotism and sport had never comfortably mixed for me. But I remember the detail of John's actions. As he slowly and meticulously placed the flag on the lower left side of that helmet, it began to sink in. For the first time in my athletic career I would be wearing a uniform that pledged allegiance not to a school, a state, or an organization, but to a country. "Cool," I thought.

But it wasn't until a month later, while watching the Giants beat the Bills in Super Bowl XXV, that I truly felt the weight of that tiny decal. In that famous replay, where Giants RB Ottis Anderson hits Bills safety Mark Kelso with that wound-up stiff-arm, I got another glance. When each player slightly turned his head, I saw the flag. Now that was really cool. It was cool because the combination of that decal, the best Super Bowl ever, and Whitney Houston's lights-out national anthem made for a pretty damn glorious day. And I was happy that I had, at least in some small part, taken part in all of it. Just by wearing that flag on my helmet, a few weeks earlier.

I don't know if the Giants, Jets, and Redskins -- the teams most closely affected by the World Trade Center tragedy -- will wear a similar symbol when play resumes. But if they do, I hope each guy on those teams knows that the decal carries a lot of weight for the Americans who happen to see it on TV.

Even if it's only a glance.

Alan Grant, a former NFL defensive back, writes football for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at alan.grant@espnmag.com.