Posted tagged ‘football’

“All holidays can be good times.”

April 18, 2016

Today is Patriot’s Day, a holiday in Massachusetts. It is also a big day for sports. The Red Sox began playing at 11. In Hopkinton where the Boston Marathon starts, the first wave of runners set off at 8:50 while the elite runners started just after 9:30. It is a beautiful day, warm and sunny. It is short sleeve weather at the ballpark, but it might be just a bit too warm for the runners. Right now the lead women are all from Ethiopia and only 2 seconds separate them. The men are close to the finish line, and there are two running side by side. As for the woman, one runner took a commanding lead and has just run across the finish line. Atsede Baysa, an Ethiopian, is the 2016 Women’s winner. Demi Hayle, also an Ethiopian, has just won the men’s race.

My cats have disappeared. One is angry because I gave her all her medicine, and the other is hiding to avoid getting any.

I live alone in a good size house, but I spend most of my time in the den on the computer, watching television or lying on the couch reading if I can get the animals off. The house where I grew up was smaller than this one. Three bedrooms and the bathroom were upstairs while a living room and a smallish kitchen were downstairs. We had an enormous cellar which held some of our toys, the bikes and the washing machine. The center of the house was the living room with the TV which was one of those models in a cabinet. You had to open the doors to watch it. You also had to walk to it to change channels. My father sat in the big chair while the rest of us sat on the couch. We eventually would start pushing for more room, touching each other just to cause trouble, complaining to my father and blaming everyone else. My dad was never tolerant of the noise or the shoving.

Mostly we watched what he wanted to watch. On Sundays my father watched football. On Sundays I usually stayed in my room reading or listening to the radio or doing both at the same time. I do remember some programs. The one afternoon program I will never forget is Queen for a Day. I still remember the chosen queen wearing her robe, her tiara and carrying an orb of royalty as she stood and listened to what gifts she had been bequeath. You Asked for It was a favorite. Skippy Peanut Butter (or some other peanut butter) was its sponsor, and the person asking would have his/her name on the jar label. I always thought that show was interesting. Just like everyone else I knew, we watched Ed Sullivan. I remember his introductions of well known people in the audience. I also remember many of the women wore hats and mink stoles. I’ve always felt blessed that my father didn’t like Lawrence Welk.

 

“Anyone who’s just driven 90 yards against huge men trying to kill them has earned the right to do Jazz hands. ”

October 13, 2015

My mornings rarely start early, but today the alarm jarred me awake at the God awful hour of 7:30. I had a library board meeting at nine and I wanted time for coffee and some of the paper. After the meeting I did my three errands. This has been a most industrious morning for me.

It started raining last night and was still raining when I woke up. Mother Nature must have looked kindly on me because the rain stopped for the few minutes it took me to get the papers then it started pouring when I got inside. The sun came out around 10 for a while then the clouds came back, but it must be a peek-a-boo day as the sun is back.

The day is warm. The morning was filled with the sounds of birds, and the rain brought a sweetness to the air. It is supposed to get really cold by the end of the week so I will savor today.

My father was a football and hockey fan. He thought baseball was boring and just didn’t enjoy basketball. We were poles apart. Basketball and baseball were always my favorites, and I never did like hockey. I abided football but didn’t understand much of it. Baseball has always been my top favorite sport. The cellar dwellers, the Sox, were a cheap Saturday afternoon in the bleachers when I was a kid. Now they are still cellar dwellers but even the bleachers are expensive. I usually try to go once each year but mostly I watch them on TV. I haven’t been to a Celtics’ game in a long while because I seemed to have lost interest. Filling the gap has been football. My dad would have loved to have someone watch with him, and he’d be thrilled at the success of the Pats. He watched them in their early days, their struggling years. He yelled a lot at the TV. I watch every Pats game, and I now understand the general rules of the game, most infractions and even some strategy. I’m hazy about some positions and their responsibilities, but that doesn’t deter me from enjoying the game. I yell at the TV. My dad would be proud!

“I got hired by a newspaper to write a column on current events, so I wrote about Benjamin Franklin’s charting of the Gulf Stream.”

January 3, 2015

No new experiences can be had sitting in my den. I haven’t been outside for a few days except to get the mail and newspapers and fill the feeders. Last night I noticed two strings of lights on the deck rail were no longer lit so I went out and unwound them from the deck. It was cold, and I wondered why in the heck I was doing that. I didn’t have an answer but once I started I needed to finish. Now only half the rail is lit, and I’m wrestling with the half full, half empty concept.

We, Gracie and I, have to go out today. She is out of canned food, my trunk is filled with trash and I need to go to the pharmacy. It is an ugly day, cold and cloudy. Rain is expected tonight. It is a perfect day to hunker down, but that will have to come later.

I diligently read two papers every morning. When I write that here, I always get comments about reading on-line and why aren’t I. That’s easy to answer. I like the feel of the paper, the sound of the pages and all the small pieces of content. It takes me a while to read both papers. I skip over international news in the Cape Times as I had already read it in the Globe. I pick and choose what to read on the sports pages. I am first and foremost a baseball fan, but I have a while to wait before it resurfaces. I read football stories if they are about the Patriots. I am not such a football fan that anything else is of interest except I did read about Rex Ryan cleaning out his office even before he was fired on Black Monday. In college I seldom missed a home hockey game, but I don’t like hockey, never have. It was the pre-game festivities which drew me in college. I do like basketball, but I haven’t followed the Celts the way I used to.

The last thing I do in the Globe is the crossword puzzle. The last thing I do in the Times is the cryptogram. The puzzle gets finished. Sometimes the cryptogram doesn’t and that drives me crazy and frustrates the hell out of me. I tend to ball up the page and toss it. That makes me feel just a little bit better.

This morning I finished both of them.

“Sunday, the day for the language of leisure.”

November 16, 2014

Dreary is the best description for this morning. It is a dark, cloudy, cold day. Dead leaves hang motionless from the branches of the big oak trees in the backyard. Everything is brown.

Yesterday Gracie had another test for her irregular heart beats, but I won’t know the results until Monday. While I was waiting for Gracie, a woman came in with a 10 week old brindle boxer puppy. I told the woman had there been no witnesses, I would have stolen her puppy. It was the cutest dog with soft boxer ears and a mournful look, the sort boxers sometimes get. The woman has another boxer at home, a one year old rescue. I told her about Miss Gracie also being a dark, brindle. We both said we’d never have a different breed as we are such boxer lovers. Gracie came bouncing out of the back area. I patted her and then Gracie went straight to the woman and gave her kisses as only boxers can. The woman told me Gracie was beautiful. That woman has a good eye.

Sunday has always been the quietest day of the week. When I was a kid, I’d go home after mass, change out of my Sunday clothes and mostly hang around the house. I’d read the comics and then settle in with my book. My mother would be making Sunday dinner, and my dad would be watching football. This time of year the house was always closed to keep the cold away. My dad would have climbed the ladder a few weeks back to take off the screens and replace them with the storm windows. It was always a process especially the part of getting the storm windows on the hooks. The closed house held in the best smells on Sundays, especially the aroma of whatever roast was baking in the oven. My favorite will always be roast beef. The smell of one baking still brings me home, to my childhood, to those quiet Sundays.

“In football everything is complicated by the presence of the opposite team.”

January 19, 2014

The sun is just arriving after being away a few days. I can even see blue sky. But if the weatherman is correct, neither will last long. The temperature is only 31˚ and snow flurries are predicted. I’m not sure if it’s a breeze or a wind. All the dead leaves and the smaller branches are blowing. Even with the sunlight, the day isn’t inviting.

This afternoon I’ll be watching the Pats and the Broncos. It will be 62˚ in Colorado at game time. That doesn’t seem right somehow. Football is a cold weather sport. There should be snow and breath you can see. You know I will be cheering for my Pats. I don’t mind the Broncos, but I don’t like Peyton Manning and never have. Something about him grates on me. My Colorado family didn’t like him either when he quarterbacked the Colts. Now he is their poster boy. Wishy washy!

Sometimes I get a bit nostalgic and watch black and white television programs on Cozi, a fairly recent channel to the line-up. The other day I watched The Lone Ranger and Robin Hood with Richard Greene. The opening 0f Robin Hood with the music and the arrow flying through the air with a whooshing sound is still a great opening. I even watched a little of The Real McCoys, but I could take only a little. Grandpappy Amos just didn’t make it for me.

Today is change the litter and do laundry day. I can’t think of two worse chores around the house.

I just made a new pot of coffee. While I was waiting, I took a gander out the kitchen window. It is finch day at the feeders. Both gold finches and house finches vie for space on three different feeders. All of the feeders are swaying. It is a wind, not a breeze.

“An atheist is a man who watches a Notre Dame – Southern Methodist University game and doesn’t care who wins.”

February 3, 2013

I woke to a cold morning with a dusting of snow and a whitish grey sky. The breeze is ever so slight. Only the tips of the brown leaves sway. Snow sits on the oak and pine branches and covers all but the tall grass in the backyard. I think the day is pretty in its own way, even without the sun. Goldfinches and nuthatches are at the feeders. I don’t know where my chickadees have gone.

Gracie, Fern and Maddie are having their morning naps. Gracie went out for a short time and came running back inside as if she were being chased. She had spit on her forehead, always a sign she had run around the yard with her mouth open and her tongue hanging. Gracie does yard loops and runs around three or four times without stopping. My yard is big so she is always panting when the loops are done.

My big plans for today are to water the plants and go to the dump. Later I’ll watch the Puppy Bowl, one of my favorite Super Bowl Sunday events. Usually my friends and I get together for the game, but I’m still on the mend so I’ll stay home. I won’t even get dressed in outside clothes. The dump has no dress code.

My father spent every Sunday of football season watching a game, usually by himself. None of us were interested. He’d sit in the living room, eat snacks and yell and jump off the couch when something really good or really bad happened. We were usually in the kitchen. He’d come out to get something else to eat or drink and give us an update. We’d commiserate when his team was losing and give encouraging sounds, but we didn’t really care. Once in a while he’d yell to us about some play, and we’d go in the living for a minute or two and check out the TV. Most of the time I had no idea what he was talking about. Football, other than knowing a few basics, was a foreign language to me. I know a lot more now, even about some plays, the jobs of the different positions and special teams, but I still need my football to English dictionary.

“Football combines two of the worst things in American life. It is violence punctuated by committee meetings.”

January 7, 2013

A good afternoon to you all! It seems I slept away the morning. Because the clock in my bedroom doesn’t work, I had no idea the time when I finally got out of bed. Fern and Gracie were with me, and they stretched and greeted me before we went downstairs. I got a shock when I saw it was after eleven. My neighbors must have been thinking about calling the rescue squad as my newspapers were still in the driveway. My morning ritual doesn’t change despite the hour so I took my time and read the papers with my coffee and did the crosswords puzzles and the cryptogram before I opened my computer. The sun which greeted me when I finally crawled out of bed is gone now. I guess I missed most of it. Now the sky is filled with clouds which have darkened the day. I have to go out and fill the feeders so I hope it doesn’t rain.

My dance card for the week has dinner with a friend, a doctor’s appointment and breakfast with friends on Friday. I can’t remember the last time it was so filled. One event a week has been the average. I don’t ever count Sunday breakfast as that is a ritual as is Sunday game night with my friends when we do appies and dessert with games in between, mostly Phase 10 and Sorry. Who’d ever think that a game like Sorry would be the source for such language, blue language which hangs in the air over our heads. Sunday is the one day I try never to book anything else. Next Sunday will still be game day, but not our game day. Next Sunday is football and the Patriots.

I always think of my Dad when the Pats are in play-off games. He was an ardent fan who would be thrilled at the success of the Pats. His first allegiance, when I was a kid, had been to the NY Giants but that was before the AFL and the Boston Patriots. He quickly became a Pats fan, but they were the lowly Pats who appeared only once in a championship where they were trounced. My father, though, never gave up. He watched every game from his spot on the couch. I really mean his spot as no one else ever sat there. It was his seat. My dad would jump up and yell and curse at the TV when the Pats fumbled or the other team scored. Most of the time my mother and I sat in the kitchen playing games. My mother never liked sports of any kind so I’d keep her company but I’d periodically check on the game.

If my parents were still with us, I’d go up to their house next Sunday, and we’d all watch the game together, even my mother. She, however, had no inkling as to how the game of football is played. A couple of times she rooted for the other team. We never said anything. She was just trying to be good fan.

“If my mother put on a helmet and shoulder pads and a uniform that wasn’t the same as the one I was wearing, I’d run over her if she was in my way. And I love my mother.”

January 23, 2012

When I woke up, I thought it was raining. I could hear drops falling to the deck from the roof, but when I came downstairs, I saw it wasn’t rain at all. It was the sound of snow melting from the eaves and the roof. It is 42° and will stay warm for the next few days. We are back in the middle of our strange winter.

My headache is gone and my teeth have stopped aching. The Patriots’ AFC game yesterday was the culprit which caused the pain. It was an amazing game, not a good game, but an amazing game, the sort that doesn’t let you relax, the sort that keeps your stomach in knots. We were on our feet with hands in the air calling each touchdown and we’d sit right back down to moan the turnovers, the lost opportunities and the threes and out. It came down to a few seconds and a kicker as to whether or not we’d go into overtime. We, my friends and I and I suspect most people watching, held our collective breaths once the ball was kicked. We watched the field goal go left of the posts, and we cheered. Bring on the Superbowl!

I am a Tom Brady fan and became even more of one yesterday. When asked about the game, Tom said, “Well I sucked pretty bad today but our defense saved us. I’m gonna go out and try and do a better job in a couple of weeks.” You have to love an honest man.

My father was a football fan. On Thanksgiving he had the record time for finishing his entire meal, including a turkey leg, so he could rush back to TV and football. In those days, I shutter to admit, he was a Giants fan because there were no Patriots.

My father was a screamer. He’d yell at poorly executed plays and moan loudly at fumbles or sacks. It didn’t matter that he was alone watching the games. He was perfectly connected with the TV and the action on the field and didn’t need anyone else. If we happened to join him, he’d just point to the TV, turn to us and ask if we’d seen the play that had him screaming. He didn’t care whether we answered.

When the Patriots won their first Superbowl, we all talked about my Dad and how much he would have loved his hometown team taking the trophy. In two weeks I’ll be thinking of him again when the Giants play the Patriots. I have no doubt as to where his allegiance would be.