Biggest Game of the Year.
I’m talking football. Super Bowl.
And I take my football quite seriously.
My favorite part of The Biggest Game? All the pull-on-the-heart-string background stories we hear in the 63 hours preceding the game. You know, the family vignettes, the tough-times-made-me-the-football-player-I-am-today, the passionate tributes to coaches, mentors, and parents. Absolutely love that kind of stuff.
So I was kind of hoping I’d get to see some of these pre-game sentimental stories on Sunday afternoon.
But…
Since I spend a lot of time at My Mom’s helping her out, when I am at home with Steve I try to be fully present…with him. On Sunday – day of The Biggest Game – I was at home. And Steve doesn’t share my fondness for the emotional stories. Nor does he share my deep appreciation for football, unless it’s the Vikings. Spending 8 hours watching TV doesn’t bring him to his Happy Place.
What to do…what to do…
We compromised.
We wouldn’t watch the pre-game, all-afternoon stories. We’d turn the TV on 30 minutes before the game to catch the best of the best tear-jerkers. And then enjoy the game.
But. Oh, yeah. That 30-minutes before the game is during the national news. In Steve’s world, the national news is sacred routine.
In my world, it’s more bad news from around the world.
I could hear the voice from the experts…
Which is better? Getting your way, or honoring the relationship?
{Have they ever watched the heart-warming stories before The Biggest Game??}
We compromised again.
We’ll turn from the news early to hear the opera lady sing the national anthem and see the close-ups of the players on the sidelines looking emotionally at the sky. {You think they’re getting all emotional about patriotism and being in The Biggest Game but I think the tears are because they’re nervous and they wish they had a few more minutes in the bathroom.}
So…as agreed…
We (well actually, Steve, because he had control of the clicker) checked out the national news and turned it back to Channel 9 for the opera singer and the big kick-off.
And then…
Oh. My. Word.
My world turned upside down.
The sports announcers on Channel 9 are speaking Spanish.
Yes, Spanish.
I don’t know Spanish.
I’m watching Payton Manning do something horrible and the fans are going crazy, but I don’t understand it…because it’s in Spanish!!
I bolted out of the living room chair faster than an off-side penalty. But all I can do is stand there, staring at the TV. Had no clue what to do. And then I take control of the clicker. Every other channel is in the language I understand. But there’s no English-speaking announcer on my Channel 9.
It’s. In. Spanish.
I thought of calling my friend, Danny Thornberg, who taught himself to speak Spanish when we were at Bethany School of Missions 30+ years ago, but I don’t even know if he likes football and oh, yeah, I don’t have his phone number.
And then I see two points on the scoreboard.
How in the name of all things good like football did I miss so much in 12 seconds? And why isn’t the announcer speaking English?
I call my sister who’s with My Mom. I’m still standing inches in front of the TV because I don’t know where else one stands when she’s missing The Biggest Game.
Julie can’t stop emoting on the phone about poor Payton and two points and a safety. But by this time I’m frantic and I just can’t stop saying…well, yelling…but it’s in Spanish! And I don’t understand Spanish! I finally just hung up.
Meanwhile…back on the couch…
Steve is finding this whole scenario quite humorous. Head tilted back, laughing from the belly humorous.
I started thinking about how fast I could get over to Mom’s to watch the game in English. And besides, Julie was making homemade caramels over there.
I finally calmed myself enough to take a look at the clicker. Duh.
And there it was.
This little white button with Lang noted above it. I pressed it once. And Joe Buck and Troy Aikman (announcers) appeared on my screen, speaking English.
Regular breathing resumed.
The world was back in its upright position.
{It really was a horrible day for the Broncos. But life goes on, right? Right.}
