Sunday, January 24, 2010

This is a Football Sunday

Home alone and baching it won’t stop me from enjoying the big, dinner-time game!
by Charlie Leck

Are you ready for some football?

Most of my readers could care any less than they already do that this is a football Sunday. This is the day when the Super Bowl opponents will be decided – when the champions of the National Football Conference and the American Football Conference will be crowned.

I can hear a resounding chorus of “who cares?”

“If you are going to write about such nonsense, I’m not coming back to your blog,” one of my loony friends emailed me after my last football column. Martin, give me a break. Just try to work your way through this and see if you can’t have some fun with me.

The Minnesota Vikings – my Vikes – the purple and gold – will play the New Orleans Saints today for the right to go to Super Bowl (insert a Roman numeral here). Last week the Vikings had to beat the hated Dallas Cowboys in order to move to this game. I had the pleasure of sitting around with a few really good guys with whom I could cheer and exchange high fives as the Cowboys were smashed by the Vikings (I don’t think there is any historical basis in all this). We shared lunch together (fresh lamb sandwiches and a wonderful red lentil soup), sipped on some wonderful liquid, and told lies about our prowess with women. It was really neat.

Today, my wife is sluicing out in Utah with her sister and some other good friends. I’m a bachelor and, at dinner time, I’ll watch the game alone. Nevertheless, I’ll have a great time pretending that I'm in the dome, in New Orleans, and I’ll create an appropriate atmosphere. I’ll cook up a couple of bratwursts and heat up some sauerkraut. I’ll make sure the brats are over-cooked, just like at the stadium, and the buns will be mushy as hell. I’ll slap some cheap mustard and cold kraut on top and make sure my beer couldn’t even be described as cool – lukewarm, baby! Then I’ll throw a handful of stale chips on the plate and settle in to watch the game.

I’ve taped an old Brett Favre poster from a dozen years ago to the wall, but I’ve recolored all the green and gold to purple, white and gold.

At 5:41 this afternoon, when I enter the living room with my miserable brats and beer, I'll sing out as loudly as I can: “Are you ready for some football?”

Dang right, baby! Let’s mix it up. I can only hope it helps me blot out my fury about that Supreme Court decision on Thursday.

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