As a new football fan, I haven’t had to deal with much loss.
If you want to call me a bandwagon Seahawks fan, that’s fine – but I’m confident in my reasons (mostly time with the hubs/opportunities to make out) and timing (the summer before the Super Bowl season even started).
So I’ve only dealt with a handful of losses. They feel awful.
When I know that a loss is inevitable, I literally get sick to my stomach. A nausea rolls through my gut, gurgling through red beers and guacamole like an angry tide of disappointment.
I want to cry from physical discomfort and emotional despair.
So yesterday, when it was clear that the Hawks defense was not reading plays, like it had last week. When Sherman made critical errors and was beat at his own game of “angles.” When a quick-play offense forced our defense to play without substitutions. When the heat was a factor, but shouldn’t have been (be prepared play at 120 degrees and -20 degrees!). When the O line regressed, and I kept hearing the old phrase, “Wilson in trouble ..”
I’m so upset that whole paragraph was sentence fragments and I don’t even care. I DON’T CARE! That’s how you know it’s serious.
Anyway, I felt the loss coming. I wanted to puke and cry. But I was in public! And not just regular public … stranger public. Hubs was out of town so my friend J took me to his friend’s house. “Come along!” he said. “There will be lots of girls who
They were and they weren’t. And it made me reflective.
On one hand, these women were knowledgable. They’ve clearly been watching football for a long time, and knew what they were seeing. They were a far cry where I was a year ago.
On the other hand, they were friends at a place with beer and chips and yelling – y’know, a party! But I just wanted to watch the game.
Did you hear that? The voice of a mature fan coming from deep inside?
Because if you know me at all, you’ll know I like to hang out, get a bit chatty, dance on a table or two.
At the very least, I have talked way too much at football games.
One time, I took a stack of grading to a Super Bowl party because I knew I’d get bored. I kept leaning over to Johnny and reading him hilarious misunderstandings my students had about the Pelopponesian War.
And that was the Ravens v. Niners game! If I had only known.
Wanna know a worse one? I was a youth pastor for awhile and I made Johnny watch the Super Bowl on a projected screen at the church with twelve year olds running around. Not so bad? It was the Super Bowl where the Hawks lost! He wanted to go home so badly, and I was like, “buck up, I need your help stacking chairs before we go.”
Yesterday I couldn’t make new friends with these football-loving girls and I wanted to, but I couldn’t – because I just wanted to be quiet and watch the game. And when we lost, I just wanted to go home.
What have I become?
Photo credit: Jill Greenberg