Super Bowl LIV

I cannot believe I’m saying this, but I am taking the San Francisco 49ers for the win in this weekend’s Super Bowl. Divorce lawyers reading this column should reach out to me immediately. I’m taking bids. But to be fair, my spouse the Carpenter brought this on himself.

As you know, my Carpenter is a dedicated Seattle Seahawks fan. Since the early 80s he has committed to this team through good times and bad. Speaking of bad, flashback to Dec. 29, when San Francisco took Seattle down 26-21, taking top billing in the NFC West Division, throwing a spin into the trajectory of the Carpenter’s Super Bowl fantasy. Ouch.

Adding insult to injury, Green Bay sacked Seattle right out of the running in the NFL Divisional Round. Oh snap, that’s a night I’ll remember. All of our superstitious traditions were in play. The Russell Wilson figurine stood at the right corner of the TV stand. The Carpenter was in head-to-toe Seattle gear, including a ball cap, scarf, his hideous bright green Wilson jersey, Wilson caricature socks, and pajama pants. I wore my tacky Seahawks sequin-logo shirt (sequins and football, so wrong) and sat in the exact spot I had for all the team’s wins this season. Yet it wasn’t meant to be. Fate was not on our side.

It’s not fun to watch my football fan lose. I want to wrap the Carpenter up in his Seahawks blankie while I slowly, carefully slide his bowl of salt’n vinegar chips closer to my end of the sofa, because he’ll get over the loss eventually, but I can’t have him waste his chips.

As Green Bay took the field following the victory, the Carpenter stood up and silently walked to our bedroom. I heard the clink of hangers in our bedroom closet, the rattle on the metal bar as one was removed, the extended scrape as wire hangers moved along the bar, making space in the farthest corner of the closet for one more article of clothing. He was hanging up his jersey until next year. When he returned, not a word was spoken. Mind you, I was dusting chips off my sequins, so, kind of busy.

Days later, San Francisco would squash Green Bay’s Super Bowl dreams in the west and the Kansas City Chiefs would advance to square off against the 49ers in battle. Gratifying. I thought this would make the 49ers an obvious choice for the Carpenter, especially with former Seahawk Richard Sherman on the team (See? I pay attention). I was wrong.

“I will never, ever cheer for a team in my own division unless it is the Seattle Seahawks,” he declared, vehemently. “It is that simple. Never. Ever.” Well then.

My Dad, the other important man in my life, is a dedicated 49ers fan. This Christmas we bought him a Joe Montana jersey (yes, I know he ended his career with the Chiefs, but his heart belongs in San Francisco). I have fond memories of touring San Francisco with my Dad when I was a teenager. We loved that city.

“I think I’ll take the 49ers for the win on Sunday,” I stated. The Carpenter’s eyes met mine. In an instant, everything changed.

“That’s okay,” he said, defiantly. “But I won’t speak to you for three days. And if they actually win? Three months.”

Touchdown. 49ers for the win. Victory is mine.

WriteOut of Her Mind