A HERO'S SPARK: the final book in the Wicked Women series!

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Football season starts today and I couldn't be happier if Rick Springfield and David James Elliott showed up on my doorstep...probably.


Professional football raises it's glorious self from hibernation tonight. I'm not talking about preseason-doesn't-count-so-why-the-blazes-do-we-bother football. I'm not talking about watching guys who will NEVER make a pro roster playing 3 quarters of a game. Nope, fasten your seat belts kiddies, the NFL IS BACK TONIGHT!

But wait...Sarah...aren't you a GIRL? You're not supposed to like football. You're supposed to groan loudly when the menfolk discuss the pros and cons of the 3-4 defense. You're supposed to make grumpy noises when you hear pregame music. You're supposed to say something like, "Oh, that's how you're spending your Sunday afternoon?"

No, my friends, I once was that way. I once saw no point to the violent, gladiator-like action that is football (Thank you Steve Czaben, my favorite sports guru, for that image!) I once made fun of people (men) who spent time (all weekend) in front of the TV when there was perfectly good shopping to be done. Or talking about feelings...or whatever it is girls do when football is on.

Then I got married. I married a full throttle Packer fan. I was raised in a Lions household. (Okay, to be fair, my mother's relatives...the ones that must declare "insanity" as part of their medical history, are Lions fans. My father, the silent, long suffering man he is, has always been a Packer fan.) And, newly married, I realized I had a choice.

Listen carefully my female friends...

I could either embrace football and have a common interest with my husband, or I could shun it, mock it, and throw a massive 3 month wedge in our marriage.

I started slowly. I allowed only PACKER GAMES to be on. Then I realized that what other teams did on Sundays was important to the I started watching those games, casually at first and then I was a two game Sunday watcher.

Then came Monday nights. Who doesn't love Monday night football?

It wasn't a long jump from there to wondering just how many days of the week I could watch football. And, after nineteen years of wedded bliss (even, and ESPECIALLY during football season) I follow college football (thank you again, Steve Czaben for those "Small School Butt kickings of the week" on THE HOG) and I even dabble in rugby, which is sort of football, but without pads and with better accents.

A bonus to football on Sundays: NAPPING! I love to nap. I would never go to bed at night if I knew I could take a nap in the late morning and mid afternoon. And football...well, on Sundays that's six hours of napping opportunity. Hey, if it's an AFC game between two teams I couldn't care less about (Say...the Jets sans Brett Favre and oh, the Bills.) then that's a nap waiting to happen!

So my friends, NFL is about to begin. I don't love Thursday games...but Survivor hasn't started yet, so it's all good. If you want me, you can find me on the couch, snack foods in hand, and an adult beverage, probably involving rum or tequila (Beer tastes icky...) close by.

Who knows? Maybe my next novel will involve a murder at an NFL stadium. The research would be SPECTACULAR!


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