gridiron confessions

I am a football hooligan. This may come as a surprise to the people who think of me as a sweet, quiet, foreign film watching, vampire series reading, broadway music listening culture princess who loves to shop. But it's true.

It began quite early, you see. I was 7 years old in 1985 when the Bears went to the Super Bowl. I knew all of the players in the starting lineup AND all the words to the Super Bowl Shuffle. I didn't know anything about the game then, but my parents were into it, and I was too. We also started spending Super Bowl Sunday with friends of my parents. I would eat chili and play with their cute toy poodle, but sometimes there was nothing else to do but pay attention to the game. And so I learned things. It was more fun to me to understand what was going on - it helped, too, during Thanksgiving when most of the day was spent with chips and dip in front of the tv. My dad took part in pools in the places where he worked, and one day, for fun, we decided to do it at home, too.

I picked teams for the stupidest of reasons, I liked the color of their uniforms, or they had a cute player, or I liked their city. The funny thing was, a lot of the times, I picked correctly, without even knowing anything about anything. We used to play for money, but now it's just for fun. (And no, I don't pick them like that anymore. I read the papers and look up stats and stuff like that). My parents are kind of amused, because I will sit in front of a game with them, sometimes I'll read, or sometimes I'll knit or whatever, just listening to what's going on, and watching, if it is super interesting, and then later, I can have actual knowledgeable football conversations. It's a little bit dazzling, because it is, I think, so unexpected. Here's an example, one day this past winter, my dad was wondering if a coach had ever been fired mid-season, and I answered, yes, that Vikings guy was fired last year before Thanksgiving. I didn't remember his name (looked it up later - Brad Childress) - it just soaks in. My parents were suitably dazzled. I don't know where it comes from. I'll just pick things up, like, subliminally, and they get stored in a little football brain folder, ready to be accessed again at a suitably appropriate time.

So last night, I was in front of the tv, watching the game, and transformed from sweet, quiet regular me into crazy, football hooligan me, yelling at the screen, clapping when the Giants made a good move and booing heartily when the Patriots did just about anything. It was crazy. It makes a difference, of course, when I actually like one of the teams playing. Last year, I was like, yawwwwnnn, whatever, Packers, who cares, bring on the commercials!

I have never actually been to a game, but really want to go to one. Like, a pre-season one. I am not so dedicated that I will sit around in freezing temps, to watch these guys run around. I know that makes it more authentic or something, but whatever.

So now you know my secret.