Monday, September 22, 2014

Saturday in Redneckville: Football Fever

You would more or less have to live under a rock to not realize that it is football season in the USA. I mean the kind with a brown oval ball and big black men in pads and helmets, not the one with the round ball and men in shorts running around. I happen to be a pretty decent football fan. Wait, I am a Seahawks fan, not really football in general. I watch games in which my team plays but I don't take time out of my Monday and Thursday to watch teams whose merchandise I don't buy.

I am not going to give you a run down of the Seattle/Denver game. We won and that's all the matters. The fact that it was in overtime just means that my heart rate and blood pressure were very likely temporarily at unhealthy rates.

 I brought up football because, I learned this weekend that my husband could take it or leave it when it comes to watching football, but I might have a conniption if I miss a game. If the fact that I kicked my husband out while the game was on (the Seahawks play better when he listens on the radio at his brothers) wasn't weird enough, I "watched" the game with my sister via Facebook messenger.  She recently moved to Denver. (I should maybe call her and make sure her Seahawk loyalties didn't get her killed or maimed today.) While we aren't, and never were, very close, she, like me, lettered in football in high school, so we do sort of bond over football. And it's no fun to watch by yourself.

Also, these amazing  pictures of my kids amusing themselves while I screamed at the sweaty young men on my television.

Johnny made himself "overalls" out of a plastic shopping bag while on time out.

I have no idea what Lily was doing here. She was just sitting there making this face.

P.S. I guess I better clarify the lettering in football. Neither my sister or I actually played football. She did get tackled once though. We were the statisticians.  We ran up and down the sidelines during the game keeping track of yards run and yards passed, interceptions, fumbles, and all that wonderful stuff. Our duties included traveling with the team to all away games. For anyone who thinks keeping stats for two years in a row doesn't really qualify you for a letter, try taking hour plus bus rides home with a team of football players. Most of them shower, but their pads still reek. I paid my dues.

2 comments:

  1. I kept stats for my niece's softball team one year. You earned your letter. Pads or no.

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