Thursday, September 19, 2013


There comes a time every fall when my husband looks a little more alert.  He smiles easier. He watches TV from the edge of the couch instead of sitting back. The fridge seems to have more beer. Yes…it’s football season.  Now, words like “pocket” and “rush” no longer mean something you put your phone in and what you do when you’re late for work.   Yelling at the TV becomes commonplace.  Cursing at the TV, even more common.  You’ve heard of “breakfast at Wimbledon?”  Well, now, because we are fortunate enough to live in California, we have “breakfast at Lambeau, “ or “coffee at Qualcomm,” since the games start here at around 10am!  Our intellect seems to take a slight dip, as shows like CBS This Morning, or Meet The Press are replaced by the sounds of sports announcers, marching bands and huge men butting helmets like angry bulls. 

And then there’s the channel flipping.  He can’t just watch one game. Doesn’t matter if it’s Saturday college, or Sunday pro.  Suddenly, my husband, who is all thumbs when it comes to texting, is a like my 18 year old daughter on her i-phone.  He deftly changes from game to game, from station to station, even watching 8 games at once with some “special” button! Some games, the ones he deems less important, he’ll record, and then watch later, fast forwarding from play to play.  Sometimes, he’ll switch back and forth between two important games. 

But when The Patriots play, it’s like a holy day.  He dresses in his official Patriot's jersey. The entire day is planned around the game, allowing for possible overtime…which is actually a bad thing, because it means the game is close and the mood in the house is decidedly tense.  The meal is planned. The time we eat said meal is planned.  There usually are no guests, or if they are allowed, they must be true Patriots fans…able to name, not only the starting lineup, but also the passing and rushing leaders, Brady’s total season completions (in yards), and his and Gisele's kid’s middle names. 

During the game, talking must be kept to a minimum, which is sometimes difficult when the Patriots play the Jets and we have our favorite Jet fan here to join us for the game.  If the game's a blowout, it's a relaxing day.  If the game is close, it is not unusual to see Jon change his if his position in our living room will enable the Patriots to score.  And heaven forbid the Patriots don’t win.  I will quietly tiptoe out of the living room and disappear for a good hour, until the appropriate mourning period is over and life resumes as normal…a bit more melancholy, but normal.  And by the time Thursday rolls around again, there’s a renewed feeling of hope and excitement.  And here we go again!

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