In honor of the Super Bowl (or Superb Owl), I thought I would post about the very bizarre relationship I have with football. See, I like football. As a woman, this apparently makes me an anomaly, if American media would have me believe it. Of course, the American media would have me believe that I'm overweight (see previous post), so we'll take THAT for what it's worth.
Now, the tale is normally that boys bond with their daddies on Sundays by watching football, while Mom and the sisters...I don't know, go to church or grocery shopping or something. In my house, it was not exactly like that. In fact, my mother and I were the ones on the couch watching football, while my father was at his club dressing deer. (Another post, another day.) But we were not "local sports team" fans. In fact, we both developed a deep loathing for the New England Patriots after they used CT as a bargaining tool for their new stadium. (This makes my relationship with my Significant Other interesting, as he is an MA transplant.)
So, we were a house divided, but not a house of rivals. My mother rooted for the Indianapolis Colts, while my father cheered on the Miami Dolphins. My baby brother (he's four years younger than me and married...still my baby brother) kind of bounces between the San Francisco 49ers, the Jacksonville Jaguars, and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. And then I decided to follow the Minnesota Vikings. My reasons were not particularly grandiose: they wore purple, their mascot was a viking, and they had two players with fun names: Cris Carter and Robert Smith. You see, this was when The X-Files was still on, and Chris Carter was the creator and main writer for the show. Robert Smith is also the name of the lead singer of The Cure, one of my mother's favorite bands. Anyway, the Vikings were having a particularly good year in the 1998-99 season, so it was easy to enjoy the games.
Not so much anymore. I have suffered through: Randy Moss, Dante Culpepper, the Love Boat scandal, and Brett Favre. I have watched them lose by over fifty points in the NFC Championship game. But I also was lucky enough to see them play in Foxboro on Halloween in 2010. Again, a loss, but seeing a favorite team play is pretty freakin' sweet.
When the game starts today, I won't care whether the 49ers or Ravens win. The best part about having a sucky team is that, ultimately, the Super Bowl becomes about the game, the commercials, the food, and the company. I will be yelling at the TV screen with my brother and his lovely new bride, as well as with my Significant Other.
Happy Football, Everyone!