I find most sports to be pointless and uninteresting. Oh, the exercise is great and I’m sure it’s a lot of fun to get together for a friendly competition. But the way I see it, it’s kinda like sex. If I’m not actually participating, I don’t want to just watch.
Though every now and then I do catch the fever. It’s happened twice that I can remember: in 1987 and in 1991, when the Minnesota Twins not only made it to the World Series, they won it twice. So I think I know how my friends and family in New Orleans are feeling right now. I have to admit I’m starting to catch the fever, too.
The big game is Sunday. I’ll probably actually watch it, though I usually do, just for the commercials. I can see this might cause a little consternation here in the house, because Jim will want to watch his shows, Desperate Housewives and Brothers & Sisters. But then again, last night when I picked him up from work Jim expressed once again his appreciation for all the driving I do for him, and expressed guilt at making me have to do that. Having been brought up catholic, I know how to play on guilt. I learned from a master.
Maybe I should go all out and make it a Super Bowl party with chips and salsa and beer and all, but I can’t really do that because I can’t have alcohol around the house when Jim’s home. Well the chips and salsa are still doable, and I guess it could be root beer. And of course, there’s always the commercials. The anti-abortion ad they’re reported to be airing will be a great time to take a bathroom break.
Yeah, I’m starting to get hyped about the game.But maybe it’s just because Drew Brees, the Saints’ quarterback, is so dreamy. Wish he played on my team.
