gratitude-a-thon day 1005: BRADY

It probably started when I was a kid and we were a one tv household and my football obsessed dad watched the NFL all day Sunday. And I mean the WHOLE DAY. “There’s only 15 minutes left,” he’d say, but as I later learned, that could mean an hour. I sat hostage to that stupid game until I got my own tv when I was 12. But the damage was already done. I hated football.

As a high school cheerleader, truth be known, I only knew when to yell and scream by watching the crowd during a game because I had no technical understanding of the game. And to this day, I still don’t. And I don’t care. I am known among my friends as a hater. My son was informed early on that he would not be allowed to play a game that can later cause  dementia and leave your joints howling.

This was going to be the exclamation point after the first touchdown, only then it never happened, and he had to reveal it when everyone was suicidal and it barely got a laugh.

Fast forward to yesterday, my good friend invited us to watch the game and when I asked her what we could bring, she replied, “a good attitude.” My husband, a lifelong Buffalo Bill’s fan, who despises the Patriots, is my perfect companion when it comes to being the whiney haters at a Super Bowl Party. So, having been warned, we decided to go in the other direction, using my daughter’s gift to her brother, of fathead stickers of the Pats. We decided to show up as the ultimate fans, screaming and yelling the minute we walked in the door.

My new logo.
This sticker said “Tom Brady.” I thought it was appropriate to put on my ass, but that was BEFORE the miracle.

It wasn’t long before the air in the room was all doom and gloom. While I was chatting it up with another non-football loving guest, the Falcons (yes, I did know who they were playing, but only as of yesterday morning), were killing it. Good cheer turned to beer, and after Gaga’s show, it wasn’t long before people started to leave.

We were the stragglers, still watching, just to finish it out. I was texting my die-hard fan son in  L.A., with $400 worth of ribs at his house party, pumped out of his mind,  and the only New Englander cheering for his hometown team, and his less PAT-riotic sister.



And then the tide turned. And even I was under the spell. On the edge of our seats,  I suddenly got it. BRADY IS SUPER HUMAN. The guy is not of this world. The game turned around and freaking history was made. I have to admit, it was fun to be part of Patriot’s Nation last night. I might, MIGHT finally be a football fan.

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