Game On, Ladies!

I’m not a sports fan in the normal sense. I don’t follow my local teams, I don’t have a Red Sox or Patriots key chain or wear the jersey of my favorite player. Hell, I don’t even have a favorite player. I’ll watch Superbowls and Olympic games and get all sappy at the Clydesdale ads and the medal ceremonies. As a New Englander do I get excited when the Sox are doing well or the Pats win the playoff? Absolutely. And I yell at the TV when we watch the games, too.

Last Saturday night’s Patriots vs. Raven’s game was a nail-biter, and there was texting to Pats fans in Columbus, Ohio going on during the scariest parts. And also to Knoxville regarding the upcoming Panthers and Seahawks matchup.

The Ducks? Really? Is that the best they could do? I know it’s damp in the Pacific Northwest, but Ducks? I suppose it’s better than the Oregon Salmon.

My friend Ursula spent a big part of her life in the Boston area, and her husband Mark went to school here. Both of them, and their kids, are Pats fans, and since Mark is a professor at Ohio State they are Buckeye fans as well. So last weekend and especially Monday night were key games for them. Since visiting them in November we have caught a bit of Buckeye fever, watching them trounce Alabama in the Sugar Bowl, and we tuned in for the College Championship game vs. the Oregon Ducks. The Ducks? Really? Is that the best they could do? I know it’s damp in the Pacific Northwest, but Ducks? I suppose it’s better than the Oregon Salmon. That, in its entirety, is the extent of my trash talk. Anyway, Mark’s comment to Ursula was, “Who’d have thought you and Deb would ever be texting about football?” Not likely for two gals who met while working in the high fashion arena of Saks 5^th Avenue and spent most of their misspent youth talking about cute shoes and indie rock, checking out music venues in Boston and drinking Champagne. After Monday night the Buckeyes are now the College Champions and Urs and Mark celebrated by sending their friends and family a box of “Buckeyes”, not the horse chestnuts, but a chocolate and peanut butter confection that looks just like, well, a buckeye. But tastier.

My friend Jenifer is a huge Carolina Panther’s fan. She’s been waiting 20 years for them to break loose and get to the Superbowl. She’ll be waiting a bit longer after last Saturday night. During their game a few weeks back I had texted her to tell her that her quarterback was being cocky, and she needed to have a talk with him; she texted back that she’d get right on it. The following week she went to the game with her dad, where they pulled out a win in the rain against the Cardinals. Again we texted: “I haven’t seen you on the jumbo-tron. What are you wearing?” Her response? “A rain poncho.” She and 20,000 others, all blue. But I did get some good texts with selfies of her and her dad.

Last Saturday night she was nervous but ready. She had on her Panthers tee with matching plaid PJ bottoms. She texted a picture when I asked if she was ready. These things are important.

Panthers QB Cam Newton was ready to be his cocky self. Jenifer texted, “Yes, but he’s no Tom Brady.” “But he thinks he is,” I texted back, “you gotta give him his props for that.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her local sports reporters had likened the Panthers game against the Seahawks to lambs to the slaughter. But the Panthers did give it the old college try; it was a respectable outing.

Now Boston is in the running as the 2024 Olympic venue. One Boston sportscaster correctly likened kvetching in Boston to a blood sport, and kvetching there was. The usual suspects all complained about the cost, the traffic, and the security, and many discussed how well the state managed our infamous “Big Dig”.

 You know there are complaints about an infrastructure project when they erect a billboard just prior to construction that says, “Rome wasn’t built in a day. If it was we’d have hired their contractor”, and another that said, “If you want it sugar coated buy a donut”.

Will they be able to pull it off? Will they build a 60,000-seat stadium and move the Patriots into Boston proper vs. keep them 30 miles southwest in Foxborough at the end of the games? Would that even make sense, even if they could? Time will tell. And it gives me time to contemplate the sailing competitions in Buzzard’s Bay and whether we’d be able to rent our house out for a gazillion dollars during them. Hmm.

But the immediate future holds a football game that will be near and dear to our hearts. We’re hoping Indy’s “Luck” runs out (huge pun intended) and the Pats will play in the Superbowl. Would we watch the Superbowl anyway if the Pats weren’t in it? Meh. Maybe just to get all sappy over the Clydesdale ads.

Congrats to the Buckeyes and Go Pats!