I try to draft my blogs on Tuesday. That gives me at least two days to throw it out, start over again and make up new stuff. Although, to be honest, I’d like to say that what I write is made up, but it is 99.99% true.
So, this week was a challenge. I’ve spent so much time in my house working on this month’s eNewsletter, Golden Opportunity, that not much has happened to me. That’s both good and bad. It’s good because I haven’t had any faceplants, any run-ins with any animals or people, have not required hospital/doctor visits and so, I am generally doing just fine. It’s bad because that means I have no subject matter about which to write.
Then I remembered what I did all last Sunday. It was AFC-NFC Championship game day…and I was so into it, I left Mass early (which I rarely do) just so I wouldn’t miss the kick-off of the first game, which was at 12:30 PST. (Sorry, Father Chris. But it was a good homily…as usual.) My beloved Jets were involved and that made this occasion even more important.
So, I spent most of Sunday yelling at my television set, which did not respond. However, the MOTNSO (“More Often Than Not Significant Other”) did respond. He moved as far away from me as possible while I was having apoplectic fits at football games.
You see, I think I know as much as the referees. Virtually every single time a pass thrown by the quarterback on the team that I am rooting for is not caught, I get positively outraged at the fact that the totally blind referee did not call a penalty for pass interference. It doesn’t matter whether it was or not. If it’s my team and the player didn’t catch the ball, even if there’s no defender within ten yards of him, there is absolutely no question in my mind that that was pass interference. Same thing with offsides calls. If “my” team gets the penalty, they were drawn off sides by the bad guys. I also think that if my team is losing, every time they have to punt it should be a fake and every first pass should be the “bomb” because no one will expect it. I also am quite fond of the “quarterback keeper.”
It’s a good thing I don’t coach.
The other thing I do is drag up every awful thing that any player on the team opposing my team has ever done. Any arrests, any implication of unsavory acts, even if I suspect that they were fresh to their mother as kids…if I heard so much as a whisper about such a thing, I will expound on it and end every one of my outbursts with “…and that’s why they shouldn’t be allowed to play professional football ever again.”
I also have an extreme dislike for most owners of NFL teams. I don’t know why. I guess one reason is that I had personal dealings with an owner when I was in real estate. This was a man who would rob his own sister if the opportunity arose. His reputation for being such a slimy, scum-sucking dog would be supported by any number of other realtors that I knew. I guess that left a bad taste in my mouth for wannabe jocks who buy teams because they can’t play the game. This isn’t true about all owners; there are several who are upstanding citizens, give back to their communities and don’t try to take money unnecessarily from the common sports fan. But I think most of them are just skunks with a lot of money trying to accumulate more from people who love the game.
Don’t get me started on the cheerleaders. I admit, I am jealous of them and that’s why I do not appreciate their perky body parts and non-jiggling appendages. I frequently try to distract MOTNSO when they are on the screen by offering him a piece of chocolate or a bowl of Dibs, his favorite kind of ice cream treat. Food is usually the best way to get him to not pay attention. It doesn’t work all the time, though.
I once said to him, when the wide screen was filled with a close-up of the ladies high kicking and jumping on the sidelines, “Shhh! Did you hear that?” He looked at me quickly, so as not to miss a step on the TV. So, I said it again. He looked at me for a milli-second longer and said “Hear what?” to which I responded “That rattling noise! It’s their pea-sized brains bouncing around in their heads.”
He never moved his head. He was still looking at the television. His answer was “I wasn’t listening, I was looking.”
That’s when I punched him in the arm. And he got no Dibs that day.
Well, I’m hosting a get-together for the Super Bowl. Some of the MOTNSO’s old football buddies and their wives/SO’s will be coming over and a couple of friends. One of them coaches high school football now so I’ll have to be very careful what I say. It’s one thing to sound like an idiot in front of people who don’t care or know less than I do about football, but it’s another thing to have those far more knowledgeable in the presence of my cacophony of complaints.
I think I’ll just stick to what I do best, which is probably cooking. I’ll make 20 pounds of chili, 40 burgers, 10 quarts of pulled pork, a case of hot dogs, barbecued chicken, about 100 meatballs, a full tray of sausage and peppers, salad and a couple of cheesecakes. There will be about ten or twelve people here so that should be enough.