more lol celebs!
Especially the Monday after the SuperBowl. Do you know what this means??? No more football for 6 whole months! Oh sure, there’s the draft, and training camp, blah blah blah. But there’s no football. And I want football! Please hurry September! I miss you so!
Oh, btw, happy Groundhog Day!
It’s been sort of a quiet weekend here in the Darc household. We got a ton of snow at the beginning of it, close to a foot, I’m sure. I thought about taking a picture of it but … nah. Seen one blank page, you’ve seen ‘em all, and that’s all snow looks like – a big blank page, only colder.
We watched football, a lot of football. I should really say that Darc watched football while I listened as I played my Sims. They were some good games, too! The Championship games next weekend are going to be really exciting, I think and I’m looking forward to seeing them. And after that, just one more game, (not counting the Pro Bowl because really, who counts the Pro Bowl?) and then football’s over, OVER until next September. Maybe I could make a Tom Brady Sim? Now there’s an idea! There is a sports star career track … .
My baby Falcon is a wit already. Know what she said to me? We have this thing, where I ask her, “Howdja get so cute?” and she would giggle in response. Now she says, “I’m cute because I love you so much!” That kid! I swear, I’m like putty in her little hands. And my son is a mini-Darc, already mocking TV shows and the voices he hears on commercials. He’s got Grampu down pat, and if you don’t know who Grampu is, don’t worry, you probably will after you have toddlers in the house. 
I’ve also become re-absorbed in reading The Stranger Beside Me, by Ann Rule. It’s been a long time since I last read it, and while there’s some updated information in this latest release, it’s almost like reading it for the first time, again. I think what fascinates me is that I probably wouldn’t have known any better either, like Ann herself didn’t know, that the nice young man she befriended was so twisted. Surely you’re not talking about my friend! No, no, my friend isn’t a sexual psychopath serial killer! I would know something like that! Yeah, we all like to think that, don’t we? I’m only half-way through the book, and despite knowing how it ends, I can’t put it down. Ted’s been dead 20 years now, and still he captivates and mesmerizes. One can only imagine he was even more so in life.
Back to the Sims to raise the babies, send them to college, marry them off. In some expansion packs you can make vampires and werewolves, I’ve read. Gardener me, I made a PlantSim. 
One thing’s for sure though, there are no serial killers in Simland.
I had an amazing run on blog stats for about a week and a half. I knew it couldn’t last – I mean, c’mon, people looking for funny were coming to my blog! But it seems that WordPress has fixed that little glitch in the matrix now so I’m back to being simply the Queen of Chicago Sucks, and no longer the Empress of Funny Pictures. Oh well, a girl had dreams.
Our Internet is still up and running, FAST, so we are happy here in the Darc Household. I’ve been on tenterhooks all day, waiting for it to go down again, but it hasn’t, so maybe it will hold this time. Woo! But, the maintenance guy that was supposed to come take care of a few things in my apartment never showed up. I called on Friday to put my work order in, and they told me they’d have someone here on Tues. Tuesday afternoon I called, and was told that no one put my work order in on Friday, but she promised, promised someone would be out TODAY. Well, that was yesterday. No one showed. So I kept my bra on all day for nothing. And know what that means? I have to keep it on all day today for whenever they show up, and they probably will while I’m in the shower or something. Hey, nothing like some strange guy walking into your apartment when you least expect it, even when you’re expecting it, you know? My life’s just all fun like that. 
And good grief, the regular season opens tomorrow night and I haven’t even made my picks yet and gotten my football posts up! I’m lagging! Oh noes! Guess what I’ll be doing today? It’s football seasonnnnnn!! Woooooo!
Here’s a bit of funny, in case you come here looking for it.
WOOOOO!!!!!!
My Beloved Patriots! They did it! How excited am I? How excited? Did you hear me screaming? I’m laughing, I’m crying, I’m jumping up and down doing the Snoopy Happy Dance, I’m so freaking happy! They did it! They won! They made history tonight!
Most points in a season – RECORD! (589)
Most touchdowns in a regular season – RECORD (75)
Most touchdown passes by a quarterback in a season – RECORD! (Brady – 50)
Most touchdown receptions by a single player in a season – RECORD! (Moss – 23)
Most games won in a regular season – RECORD! (16-0)
Most consecutive regular season wins – RECORD! (19)
Leading passer in the NFL – Brady (4,806 yards)
Brady Highlights from the game
… become interested in football, a sweet lady asked me. I had to think about that one. I couldn’t really remember a time when I wasn’t. We have a bit of a history, football and I, but not like you’d think, I’m sure.
I remember the TV in the family room of the house I lived in when I was very little. Shall I take you back? It wasn’t a big TV, maybe 20"? I don’t know. It had 2 dials, one for VHF and one for UHF. Cable didn’t exist then, so it had rabbit ears. There was no remote, so if you wanted to change the channel or volume, you had to get up to do it. I watched the Apollo Moon Landing on that TV. I watched the ‘72 Olympics in Munich when the Israelis were killed. I watched the Viet Nam vets come home, and kiss the ground when they stepped off the plane. I watched Nixon resign on that TV. And, among assorted episodes of The Monkees, The Brady Bunch, Partridge Family and the Road Runner, I watched ABC’s Wide World of Sports. Every weekend, I’d wince seeing that skier tumble down the hill while the narrator said, "… and the agony of defeat!" My father enjoyed sports and at the time, I was a daddy’s girl. He wasn’t one to shout at the TV or anything – he’d just sit quietly and watch, beer in hand. But I wasn’t the favorite and knew it, and at the time, I cared so I was eager to please. For a time, I liked baseball, until ‘73 when the owner of the A’s started getting rid of the star players like Vida Blue. There was racing, but that got boring. Golf was a yawn, even the announcers whispered. But football … now there was something exciting!
I asked my father once why we liked the Raiders. He explained to me that he grew up close to Oakland. Plus, he’d gone to high school with the coach. You may have heard of him: his name is Madden. They weren’t the same year or best buds, nothing like that, but they could nod to each other in the halls – that sort of thing. So, somehow that made the Raiders, the local team, really personal. I also discovered that one of the girls in my school, a year ahead of me, was the daughter of a Raider’s player, although he’d died in ‘70, before I met her.
I was mesmerized by Kenny "The Snake" Stabler, and kicker Ray Guy. I remember a guy they called "Casper the Ghost" because he ran so fast you couldn’t see him. The Raiders were bad, which at the time meant "awesome." They were also the local team, along with the 49ers, but the black and silver of the Raiders seemed much more "bad" to me than the red and gold of the San Francisco team. So being local, and before cable, those were the only teams you could watch on a regular basis, except for the teams that came to town. That’s why Monday Night Football was so great – you got a chance to see non-local teams play other non-local teams. I remember a guy they called "Sweetness" because it was so sweet to see him run. And some guy named Namath. Oh, and another guy named Bradshaw, whom I hated because he was the QB for the Steelers, and I hated the "Steel-Curtain" Steelers. I also hated the Denver "Orange Crush" Broncos. Both those teams could make life hell for a Raiders fan.
Because I was so eager to please in those days, I asked my father a lot of questions about football. I learned what a down was, and I learned how to read some of the ref’s calls. Not much, I know, but I felt more knowledgeable than other girls I knew. I leaned the names of all 20+ teams in the league and made a game of it with my father. He’d call out either a team name or a city, and I’d respond with the corresponding city or team. "Baltimore?" "Colts!" I’d answer. "Patriots?" "Boston!" I’d reply. I knew them all – the Houston Oilers, St. Louis Cardinals, the LA Rams. At the time, Seattle, Tampa Bay, Jacksonville, Tennessee, Arizona, and Carolina did not have teams. There were only 4 teams west of the Rockies, and they were all in California. And there were only 14 games in a season. And games didn’t get "rained out" like sissy baseball games did. Football was a mud and guts affair; like the Post Office but better, it delivered whether it was raining, snowing, sleeting, foggy, sunny, hot, cold, daytime, AND nighttime.
Another game my father and I played was, "Who do you think is going to win in this game?" He’d name 2 teams, and I’d pick one.
Eventually I left California, not by choice. I ended up in the Midwest, where the law said you had to be a Bears fan. The only time I got to see the Raiders play was when they played against the Bears. Eventually, being a teenaged girl, and also because of the home life I had, sitting around on a Sunday afternoon to watch football just wasn’t much of an option. Ultimately, those teen years and that home life changed, and the Bears went to the Superbowl. One lived in fear of being arrested if one wasn’t a Bears fan, so few knew of the autographed picture of Stabler I had on my wall, along with a pennant from Superbowl XI, a year the Raiders won. The Raiders had also left Oakland, a move that left a bitter taste in the mouths of many fans. Like my father’s. Not mine though. The Raiders hadn’t been a "local" team for me for years, what did I care where they went? They were still the Raiders to me, but even within my own family, where being a Raiders fan had been something that we just were, I was an outcast. It was almost like waking up one day and discovering you’re a different gender or a different race. And what had happened to loyalty? Win, lose, or draw, isn’t your team supposed to be your team? I was vile by association with the now hated Raiders. Outcast! I didn’t care. I took the "teasing," the ridicule, the insults from family and then-in-laws alike. I was the only one I knew who was a Raiders fan, and that didn’t change until 2003. What is it about a person’s favorite team that makes others think they can be insulted? Upon learning that I was a Raiders fan, a relative (who had only recently become a relative through marriage) spat out, "Oh! I HATE Raider fans! They’re such assholes!" I didn’t even get a "present company excluded of course!" I never was sure if the insult was intended or not. Said relative even said to me once, "You only like the Raiders because I HATE them!" Now, considering that I had only recently met the person but had been a Raiders fan for over 30 years at that time, I was more than a little bewildered.
Subsequent to 2002 however, life changed drastically for me, and for various reasons, my team allegiance seemed necessary to change also. (I posted in more detail about that here and here. Same post, different blog sites) I realized my husband felt the same way about his team, and we looked at each other and knew we needed our own team. We finally decided on the Patriots; for many reasons, not the least of which was the way they came out onto the field as a team and not as individual players. One thing I have found, it’s really nice to be married to someone who is a fan of the same team you are. Let me tell you, we are dorky enough to have actually considered getting this to wear as our wedding bands! I was never as rabid about the Raiders as I am about the Patriots, possibly because I live with another fan who’s just as rabid, lol. Like the NFLshop commercials, I find myself frequently seeing a Patriots item and stating, "I WANT THAT!" Football is a much bigger part of my life now, and that is because I am married to a football fan. He knows way more about the game than I do, and that makes it fun to watch because if I have a question about anything, I have a live in semi-expert available to give me his undivided attention and explain it to me. This is what we do on Sunday afternoons during football season – we watch the games. Occasionally I make treats. We talk about the games, the players, the announcers, the refs, the calls … other couples bowl I suppose – we watch football.
One thing that surprises me however is how few female fans there are. Football is just too sexy a sport not to be appreciated more by women. There is just so much testosterone oozing off the football fields I’m amazed there aren’t scads of women following the pheromone trails. Do you hear me ladies? This is not just a man’s sport! You don’t have to have a clue what a down is to appreciate 6-pack abs and buns of steel on handsome young men grunting on the field. You don’t need to know which teams are playing or what a goalpost is to enjoy the male physique in it’s highest form. Well … okay, 2nd highest. Football is a spectator sport ladies, so don’t be afraid to spectate! The guys are showing off! Enjoy the view!
Other times the game is like a brilliantly executed dance – watch a player try to stay in-bounds when there are opposing players trying to knock him out. A couple of weeks ago, I watched a guy do just that – he literally tip-toed his way down the line, running and holding the ball, with about 6 guys trying to force him out of bounds. He twisted and turned, spun around, and kept running. It was awesome!
As a fan, you appreciate the talent, skill, and determination players have, whether they’re on your team or not. And as a fan, you never, NEVER cheer when a player from an opposing team goes down. EVER. I remember back in ‘78 I believe, when during a Patriots/Raiders game, a man got hurt. I was a Raider fan back then. The name of the hurt player was Darryl Stingley. He played for the Patriots. I never forgot that play, the horror I felt. The shame I felt that Raiders fans in the stands cheered. I may be mistaken that the station airing the game aired it again so fans who missed it the first time could see the hit once more. That’s how it is in my memory, but I’m willing to allow it may have been nothing more than extra news coverage. Regardless, not just as a fan of the sport, but as a human being, it’s so wrong to cheer when another is hurt. To cheer when an opposing player goes down because it makes you think your team has a better chance to win, is despicable. You know who you are and you ought to be ashamed.
I love football. I still may not understand it in its entirety – the play calls, stuff like that – and I probably never will because I’m not a player, but I can still love the sport for its beauty. It’s like a chess match with living pieces. It has always been a part of my life, and always will be. I may never be a mom who makes soup commercials for her son’s winning Superbowl team, but I will always feel that breathless awe when a player does something amazing, when a team does something stunning, when a season turns out to be incredible. Football is like real life to me – grit, determination, and strategy with a little bit of magic dust thrown in.
We were watching the pre-game show on ESPN last night. (What’s happened to Jacked-up anyway?) The hosts were talking about some guy from the Redskins who’d made hostile remarks about the way the Patriots had won the game. Most of his blather included words like, "Disrespect," and "Classless." We’ve heard this rhetoric before, from every other team who’s lost to the Pats. My husband, trying to take the high road, commented that he was worried about other teams taking that attitude with us (I say ‘us’ like we’re on the team, lol!). "It’s demoralizing," he said, "when a team runs up the score like that on you." Now, knowing that my husband played for a very well respected high school team that has sent many players on to the NFL and had more than 1 winning steak of 70+ games, and recalling a few of the things he’d told me about his coach, I couldn’t remain silent. "Is that what your coach taught you? To take a knee when you get too far ahead? To just stop playing the game because it might hurt the other teams’ players’ feelings if you score too many points? They get paid to win, not worry about the other teams’ feelings!" I was pissed. Still am, I guess. (Not at my husband! At the Redskins player who was complaining.) They remind me of a bunch of whiny babies. Poor widdle pwayers might cwy if you score too many points! Waaahh!
I knew the point my husband was getting at. I knew he was trying to remain non-committal, fair, not wanting to appear as a "the Patriots can do no wrong!" kind of fan. He knows they’re just men; human, fallible, prone to mistakes. Plus, I think he has a fear of some player willing to take the punishment for taking Brady out with some kind of devastating injury. His fear’s not unfounded, it’s happened before – as any Bears fan will remember happening to Jim McMahon by Charles Martin. I know there are other such incidents as well. There are even rumors of coaches bribing some of their players to "take out" players from opposing teams. "Hit lists" are not unheard of in the NFL.
Then Keyshawn Johnson and Bill Parcels spoke, and pretty much said the same thing I had. Tom Jackson "mostly" agreed as well. I smiled, feeling vindicated. Then Steve Young opened his mouth. I was speechless listening to him talk about how wrong it was for teams to run up the score on other teams. Steve Young? From the powerhouse era of the 49ers? The same Steve Young who made many passes to the greatest wide receiver in history, Jerry Rice? Jerry Rice didn’t get nearly 200 touchdowns just for the hell of it! If he caught the ball, he was heading toward the end zone, period. Points, baby, rack ‘em up!
My husband, who is far more eloquent than I, was not speechless. He’d been a fan of those 49ers, he’d done the Snoopy happy dance on more than one occasion when those same 49ers had run up the score on countless teams. And to hear one of the QB’s from that team talk about how wrong it was for the Pats to run up the score made his blood boil. That did it. He ranted and raved, angry about the hypocrisy coming out of Young’s mouth. Still boiling, he decided to vent about it on his blogs. You can read his eloquence here and here. (same post, different sites.)
So tell me, fans of the other 31 teams, that you never want to see your team run up the score on an opponent, or celebrate a victory. If you do, I’ll know you’re lying. I lived in Chicagoland during the era of the ‘85 Bears, and every fan knew the Superbowl shuffle – it was played endlessly on the radio, they sold countless records and videos, fans were learning the "Shuffle." I saw the fans celebrate the Superbowl defeat of the Patriots by the widest margin in Superbowl history at that time. How many fans mimicked the "Dirty Bird" dance of the Superbowl bound Atlanta Falcons? How many copied the Chargers’ "Light’s Out!" dance whenever Merriman made a sack? There are so many celebratory dances and jigs that it’s impossible to count – EVERY team has had one at one time or another, but if the Patriots do it, why then it’s classless. If your team runs up the score, you stomp and cheer. If the Patriots do it, they’re disrespectful and classless. No one called the ‘72 Dolphins disrespectful and classless. No one called the 15-1 ‘85 Bears disrespectful and classless. No one called the ‘04 15-1 Steelers disrespectful and classless. Yet the Pats haven’t even gone 9-0 and people are calling them disrespectful and classless.
Tell Tony Romo he can’t have a banner year. Tell Brett Favre he can’t break any more records. Tell Peyton Manning he can’t break any more records either. No more touchdowns for T.O.! Whoops! No more touchdown for L.T.! No more sacks for Trent Cole! No more interceptions for Sean Taylor! No one in their right mind would think of saying such things. But somehow, it’s okay for people to say the Pats shouldn’t win any more games, or score any more points, that Brady can’t have a banner year.
I remember the days when losers took it like a man, and "to the victor goes the spoils."
Now, the winners aren’t allowed to feel pride in their accomplishment or celebrate their victories. And the losers whine and cry about how disrespectful, classless, and unfair the winners are. And you think this is better somehow? What is this, "outcome-based" football?
Hmm. I remember a different tune when the shoe was on your foot.
Our mistress has picked up an STD from somewhere. The thought of her doing something dirty with someone else is devastating! How could she? Wasn’t she happy with what she had? Weren’t we good enough to her? Was is just a cheap thrill, she just wanted to see if she could get away with it? Has she done this before and we just didn’t know?
I like my husband’s mistress. She’s mine too. We have a nice 3-way thing, every fall, August to February. My husband pays her more attention than I do, but she and I have our own thing going on. My husband really digs that. But now … do we get her some penicillin and move on, trying to just forget the whole thing, or do we ditch her entirely? Trouble is, we like her. I mean really like her. We chose her because we liked her, far above and beyond the other 31 mistresses we could have had. We liked her colors, we liked her location, we liked her name. We liked what she seemed to stand for – loyalty, integrity, team spirit. But now it all seems tainted, stained. And we are sad.
The name of our mistress is The New England Patriots. Lately referred to as the Cheatriots, coached by Beli-cheat. :::sigh::: I’m not saying it’s undeserved. It just breaks our hearts and makes us hang our heads in shame.
I’ve heard coaches say, "All coaches do it to some degree." I’ve heard players say, "Even if they had the other teams defensive signals, they still have to make the play." Other players claimed our victories were actually not our own but theirs instead. I can’t blame them for feeling that way, I have no doubt I would too were I on the other side.
What we needed was some sort of validation for our support. We needed to go out there on the field and win, BIG, with all eyes on us to prove we’d won fair and square, on talent and ability alone. And we did! Against the Chargers, no less, the team we beat in the play-offs, the team who begrudged us our celebrating after we’d won, a team who promised to meet us again and give us what-for.
It pained me to watch my Love mourn our team this week. Part of him wanted to cast them off, like a lover caught in bed with another. Part of him wanted them to redeem themselves, redeem his love for them. You need to understand, my husband loves football. LOVES the Pats. He’d watch every game if he could, and if I didn’t like football too, I’d be the proverbial football widow. But I knew that going in, and I don’t begrudge him his love, nor am I so foolish as to try to make him choose between us. Oh, I have no doubt whatsoever he’d choose me, but I’m not such an idiot wife that I’d look for ways to make my husband resent me. What harm does it do me if he watches games all day Sunday? I can watch with him, and I often do, or I can amuse myself doing other stuff. So not the big.
I think they redeemed themselves for us. Or are at least on their way. In some ways, it’s like spanking a recalcitrant child. They misbehave, you punish, they apologize, you forgive. You expect them to be human. But if they step out of line again, well that’s another matter entirely.
So we watched the game tonight – a real treat for us since we don’t live in the Pats local viewing area and hardly ever get to see them play. I don’t know why more women don’t watch the games. Seriously, when the commercials brag, "It’s the hardware!" we ladies know it’s not just the trophies they’re referring to. It’s the equipment too. Watching strong, athletic men roll around in the hay turf, grunting and groaning, getting all sweaty – well, it just begs to be watched and enjoyed by women everywhere! Manly men doing manly things. Raw masculinity at its finest! Yummy! So why less than a 25% female fan base? Anyway, watching tonight felt like a validation of sorts. Yes, we have the talent, we have the ability, we can play this sport and win big with absolutely no question of cheating whatsoever. Whatever Belichick did, the players claim that it didn’t impact them at all. "Absolutely not!" claimed Tom Brady when he was asked if he’d had other teams’ defensive signals given to him during games. Everything I read (New England Patriots – Boston.com; New England Patriots News – PatsFans.com; N.E. Patriots – Sports – BostonHerald.com) indicates the Pats fans in New England don’t consider it that big a deal – at least, not big enough for the press to act like Belichick is the new Al-Queda in New England. They forgive him, and they want to move on and focus on what the Patriots do best, win. And even though I don’t live in New England and am generally not known for my forgiving nature, I think I can do the same.
Go Patriots!
It’s a sad day, the day after your team loses in the playoffs and you realize with a sinking feeling in your heart that there won’t be a Superbowl ring in your immediate future. I don’t know why we get so worked up about our teams. It’s like we somehow mesh our identity with our team, and if they lose, then that somehow makes us losers. I don’t know why. Losing doesn’t make us losers. And it’s not as though it’s our career on the line. Really, the games have no real impact on our lives – it’s not going to change our bank balance, it’s not going to get us promoted or fired in our jobs, it’s not going to make us better parents, or get us into heaven. Yet we cry and scream when our team plays badly or loses, and we cheer and shout with joy when they win.
My heart breaks with sadness for my beloved Patriots. I’m sure they’re stunned as well – never having lost to the Colts in the playoffs before. And it’s as though sadness and joy must somehow always temper each other. I like the Colts, have for a long time, and especially admire Coach Dungy. But I imagine that his joy is tempered greatly. I’m sure he’s longed for a long time to take his firstborn to a Superbowl, and now he never can. I’m sure there’s a huge hole in his heart, missing something that fathers and sons do – and not just this but other things too. So doubtless his joy is tempered. But I’m glad that Coach Dungy gets to have a shot at that coveted ring. I really am. The Colts are my 2nd favorite team, I just hate it when they beat the Pats, but it must happen sometimes – that’s just life. Tom Brady has 3 rings already, and while that’s an amazing accomplishment before the age of 30, there’s the part of us Pats fans that want him to have more than any other quarterback in history. Winning the Superbowl isn’t enough – we want him to win at least 6. Are we demanding fans or what?
And I know at least one guy who’s probably sadder than any Pats player or fan today. One guy who’s kicking himself big time, wishing he’d not been so insistent about "show me the money!" For a football player, I believe the ring is more important than the money. Lots of players get paid, and paid well, but very few have a ring, and now it’s probable that Edgerin James will never have one, when he might have had he stayed with the Colts just one more season. His money can buy him lots of things, but it will never get him a Superbowl ring, one he’s earned.
So I keep telling myself it’s just a hobby, a fun thing we do, but it’s not life changing like it is for the players. It really has no impact on me at all. I’ll still watch the Superbowl in 2 weeks, I’ll still root for a team, granted – not with as much enthusiasm but I’ll still root, I’ll still have to change dirty diapers and do laundry and fix meals and all the other fun stuff that needs doing. There is always next year, hopefully. I chose my team and my team they’ll be, whether they’re in the Superbowl ever again or not.
And I can still say, Go Colts!
I was thinking yesterday about football. Not surprising, since yesterday was a Sunday during football season, and we are a football family. But specifically, I was thinking that marriage is like football, or vice versa. Yet, it’s not. At least not for me. If anything, my marriage is the opposite of football, but I have seen many marriages that are like football. I mean, think about it, 2 people on opposing sides, each trying to have their side win – whether it’s an argument or point of view or belief system, whatever. Each side tries to force their idea through the block, score the touchdown and win. But if you take that approach to marriage, you will most likely end up in divorce court.
I realized yesterday just how opposite my marriage is to all that, based on a recollection I was pondering.
You see, my husband and I grew up in the SF Bay Area. He grew up on the 49ers, and I on the Raiders. Those were the teams we inherited and we gave them our loyalty. I even retained my loyalty to the Raiders after my father gave up on them when they moved to LA. They were my team – good, bad, indifferent, whether in Oakland, LA, or Mars. My husband hated the Raiders. I’m not sure why but I suspect that was inherited too. But, because he loved me, he tolerated my love for my team and didn’t root against them when they played (at least not outwardly) and we could watch together. Since we live in the Midwest, getting to watch a west coast game was a rare thing, so when I watched the Raiders he didn’t boo, and when he watched the 49ers, I didn’t boo. It was a mutual respect thing.
Along the way though, some things changed. During an extremely bad period in our lives, we had to go back to CA. For a brief while, we got to see our teams on the local news, watch the games, stuff like that. And while we were there, we were hit broadside with some things from our respective pasts that made us realize we didn’t want to be part of it anymore. Now, most people would say, "But it’s family, what are you going to do?" and they’d shrug and try to muddle through with all the pain and heartache and betrayal. My husband and I aren’t like that. Some call us grudge-holders, others say we’re unforgiving, still others call us bitter. But it’s not like that for us. We just have the attitude that life is too short to surround yourself with people who hate you, whether you share DNA or not. Would you have dinner every night with the kids who beat you up in gradeschool or highschool, or your abusive former spouse? I thought not. You just move on. That’s what we decided to do.
And at some point, we realized we didn’t really root for our teams anymore. They sort of became symbolic of all we wanted to leave behind. We realized we needed a team of our own: a team we both liked, a team we could both root for, a personal home team, whether we lived near them or not. A team of choice and not of inheritance. We started with one team local to the area we hope to live in one day, but found we just couldn’t get into the spirit. What was our team? One Sunday afternoon a couple of years ago, we figured it out. A team we’d liked for a while, a team whose spirit we admired, that was our team. And it felt so right to have our own team, a team we’d chosen together.
That’s how I think marriage should be. Something you both choose to be loyal to no matter who or what you cared about in the past. It defines you, gives you a cause, something to root for. Now, we don’t live in our teams’ local area, so when they come here to play we know we’re in sparse company – some might even say enemy territory. The local fans would jeer us. But it’s OUR team and we will root for them no matter what, no matter where we are. Same with our marriage. We will root for it no matter who it angers, no matter where we are, because it’s OUR marriage and this is what we choose to be loyal to. Come hell or high water. This marriage is our team, and we will cheer it, so I say "Go Team Us!"
And I also say, "GO Patriots!"
It’s the Sunday between pre-season and regular season, and there’s no football today. Usually when it’s on, my husband watches, rapt, while I sort of do other things while it’s on my background. So I feel a bit out of sorts, without football on. I mean, it’s on, but it’s a repeat game from the other night, a game in which the Pats lost, so it’s not "live". And I don’t really want to watch my team lose, pre-season or not.
But about those Packers, specifically Mr. Farve. I was remembering how much I used to like him, he was so great in those commercials! I especially liked the one of him wearing the helmet and ironing, while the baby upstairs had the coach’s helmet on. And the Monday Morning Quarterback commercials from a couple of years ago were great! Remember those? Brett and his wife, walking around town doing errands, and Brett making his comments, like the one about the lady getting her hair cut, the one where the person was eating a chocolate ice cream cone that spilled and Brett commented, "I’d have gone with vanilla, with that sweater, but that’s just me."
Well Mr. Farve, I’ve liked you a lot. Never been a Packer fan, but I have been a Brett fan. Until this past year. I watched you play an awful season. Hey, it happens, I know, but you kept on even though you weren’t on your game and it was hurting your team. It’s NOT about how much fun YOU’RE having, but about how much you can contribute to your team and the fact is, you’re not doing that so much anymore. It’s okay to get older, and you’ve had a great career, certainly one many players would long to have. You even have more than one of the coveted ring which is more than most players can say. So it was time to say goodbye. But you kept everyone on tenterhooks all off-season, keeping your team up in the air when they had decisions to make. You milked and milked your indecision for all it was worth, basically until training camp opened. And you haven’t had a great start in the pre-season either. Know what? It’s okay to be pushing 40, it’s okay to hang up your cleats, it’s okay to rest on your laurels. For the good of the team. Because it’s not supposed to be about you. And so I say, "Know what Brett? I’d have retired last year, with that record, but that’s just me."
My Logo :D, made by LeonieSainteVire
DarcsFalcon
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