Spectator Sport

I am so excited for this weekend I’m not sure how I’ll get through the next few days with any focus, except that of wishing time would fly faster, because this coming weekend promises several rough spectator sports, like watching the Carpenter sit through the Super Bowl. 

Saturday night I am heading to the Toronto Rock lacrosse game. It’s my first game of this season, and what a season it’s been. You may not understand this, but I get a positive endorphin release watching rough sports, because I am not allowed to hit people with sticks or knock them into the boards, and I don’t get that high off scoring goals in my ever-so-exciting daily routines. Nobody cheers when I throw my garbage right into the can. Nobody. Just me. Hands in the air. Applause. Alone. Thus, living vicariously through professional athletes is deeply satisfying.

I’m going to the game with my buddy, Jay, who makes it a good time. Cheap beer, sarcasm, friendly banter and great seats – he makes watching the fastest game on two feet an experience. An old friend from way back, Jay is a former lacrosse player and the most patient spectator to ever attend a game alongside me. He’s been an excellent teacher, coaching me on plays and educating me on calls. I’ve learned plenty. And, of course, I’m super well behaved (What? I am. Ask Jay).

We both love the game, and our respective spouses sincerely love that some other weirdo will go watch so they don’t have to come with us, because our life partners don’t share our passion for lacrosse. And that’s okay. Everybody gets a night off from their spouses. It’s a win-win.

Ah, but the next day is Super Bowl Sunday. You know what’s special about that? Everything. It’s not just the biggest football game of the year, it’s so much more important than that. It means watching the Carpenter have no choice but to cheer (or jeer) for the Kansas City Chiefs. You should see my smile right now.

He has a choice, of course. He could cheer for the San Francisco 49ers. He could sport some red and gold, just for one day. My father has a closet full of 49ers gear he’d happily lend his son-in-law. Picture it: the Carpenter would look like those dogs humans dress in costumes for Halloween, when it isn’t Halloween.  We’d point. We’d laugh. There would be photos on Instagram.

Maybe don’t suggest that though. It’s football blasphemy in this house. You’ll get a lecture on how a true Seattle Seahawks fan has college navy blue blood running through his action-green veins into his wolf-grey-coloured heart, all of which prevent him from ever (and I do mean ever) cheering for the San Francisco 49ers. Like, ever. 

The man who loathes Mahomes would rather pick Kansas City than swallow his pride against his football arch-rivals. That would be a personal foul.

We’ll watch the big game at the home of our dear friends, one of whom is a dedicated 49ers fan. Guaranteed there will be plenty of colour-commentary, salty language and laughter. 

I’ve yet to declare my Super Bowl pick, but guys, I’m already a winner. This is going to be the best weekend of my whole winter and I’m here for all of it. 

Hurry up, weekend.

WriteOut of Her Mind