It’s us, but in dead animal form. But not really dead because they weren’t ever alive. Undead? No. That makes them sound like vampires. So not that. Fuck. I don’t know the word. Hey, how long can a title be? Because this seems excessive. Someone should stop me. Jesus. This is as bad as 280-character twitter.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Son O'Mine turned 23. Which makes me … older than 23.
Sparky's football team won their bowl game. So now they are the New England Prep School champs for their league.
And football season is over for this year. Now we get to do things I like – things we’ve been putting off since August.
It was a long season of Sparky being busy 7 days a week, trying to schedule any and all family occasions around practice and games.
In the end, Son O'Mine and I traveled over two hours into the hinterlands of Massachusetts to sit on a blanket on a hill in sub-zero weather to watch them win (I’m pretty sure Massachusetts is above the arctic circle).
Our team is a second-half team. They like to mess with you - they play kind of crappy till the half. Then they spend the second half wiping up the field with the other team. So not only was it freezing cold, it was emotionally exhausting. They put us through this every week. The championship game was no different. 14-14 at the half. 49-20 final score.
But those home games rocked. Especially the tailgating food. Man, those parents put on a spread. We’re not talking burgers and dogs (although those were present), no… we’re talking lasagna, mac and cheese, chili, chicken gumbo, pulled pork and truckloads of barbecued ribs to die for. Oh yeah, I still dream about those ribs.
And I miss the music – they played Flo-Rida and Will I Am’s “Ayer” every time we scored a touchdown.
Cause nothing quite says ‘Elite Connecticut Prep School’ like a gaggle of chubby football moms bedecked in Lands End fleece singing:
"OH HOT DAMN! THIS IS MY JAM!!!"
To be honest, I’m looking forward to next year.
But don’t tell Sparky. I don’t want to lose my Coach’s wife Saint status.