So I have not watched football since I was in 8th grade and Terry Bradshaw was passing to Lynn Swann and John Stalworth, defended by Mean Joe Greene and Jack Lambert (real football). Even then, I would have rather played the game (even tag) than watch it, or even worse, collect football or baseball cards.
Having said that, I celebrated my birthday yesterday by cooking dinner for some guests who also don't follow football.
We had baked potatoes, NY strip, scallops with white wine and Tony Chachere's dusting, boiled shrimp in beer and Old bay seasoning, steamed broccoli, and a salad made with Boston lettuce covered with thinly sliced romaine, sprigs of spring mix lettuce, spinach, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries and a slice of Evercrisp apple, topped with either sweet onion or poppyseed dressing. Washed it down with Bully Hill Special Reserve or Bully Hill Goat White.
As I write this, I am "relishing" the fact that the punk Mahone's was shellacked. In my mind he is the epitome of the schoolyard wise ass punk who just needs his head shoved up his rear and then kicked around the yard like a soccer ball. To toast his butt kicking, I am eating a roast beef on Kimmelweck with a light horseradish and mayo sandwich, with a stiff cup of coffee, hazelnut cream.
In my world, the next sport season is groundhog season....