The Synergistic Pen

Unless you've been under a rock or something for the past few weeks, you should know that today is Superbowl Sunday. I am an Indianapolis Colts fan, and my team is playing my husband's team (the New Orleans Saints) today.. This friendly rivalry has been the highlight of the season and as our daughter is proud to say, a true measure of how we much we love each other. I'm taking a moment from my preparations to do what I always do on Superbowl Sunday... panic.

I am a football fan.  I've been a football fan for as long as I can remember.  Saturday afternoons propped up in front of the television with my father or uncles, Sunday afternoons learning the minor details of the game.  I love football.

This time last year, I muttered about how NEXT week would signal the end of the football season.  Since the Pro Ball was moved to the week before the Superbowl this year, I realized this is it... the season is over tonight.  I think I need to be put on suicide watch.

The really sad thing about the end of football season is there's 8 weeks before baseball season starts.  The eight weeks in between are torture for me.  Even with the winter olympics this year, I just don't know what to do with myself.  I only like skiing, and not even that much.  Hockey is out of the question, and basketball, ugh... tall, skinny people in baggy shorts shooting balls at baskets just doesn't move me.

So, the orgasmic high that is the Superbowl will end with a bang... tonight.  After nearly 20 weeks of foreplay, teasing, moments of joy, tears, sadness, confusion, amusement, my annual affair with football is over.  Tomorrow at school, I'll discuss the game with students and teachers and by Monday night, I'll be circled up in a ball in my bed wondering if I will survive.  Its over; I can't stand it.

Although I'm not as big a fan of college ball as I am of pro ball, I will, if not otherwise occupied, watch the draft and at some point in July, I'll begin my flirtation with the sport again.  Then, as always, I"ll be back here, the first weekend of February, suffering... interruptus.

Lord help me....