Tag Archives: football

Super Sunday? Scary Sunday!

3 Feb


It’s Super Bowl weekend in Boston. Let me say that again. It’s Super Bowl weekend. In Boston.

I’m going to admit this publicly–wait, let me pull the shades first so no one can see me typing this: I am not a Patriots fan.

I’m not a fan of most Boston teams, to be honest. Bruins excepted. I don’t really care about basketball, so I am neither here nor there on the Celtics. I’m not a Red Sox fan because I don’t believe in the American League, and I don’t like the Patriots, because–and let me completely date myself here–Super Bowl XX, da Bears 46, the Patriots 10. Never mind that the Bears today are playing more like the Chicago Chipmunks and that the Pats are clearly one of the best teams in the game.

But I just can’t like them. Much like my philosophy on baseball, I am not a fan of the AFC, although, unlike baseball, there’s no good reason except the fact that I grew up near an NFC team. Still, loyalty runs deep, and I’m not prone to root for

The other big reason I don’t like the Pats is because Boston fans can get violent really quickly, no matter what the sport. Last year, the Boy and I took his Pistons-loving mom to the Celtics-Pistons game and happened to be sitting in front of a bunch of Pistons fans (good deal for us). A couple of Celtics fans about seven rows down started getting into it with these Detroit fans, yelling back at us throughout the game. When the Pistons won, one of them actually wanted to fight these guys. Are you kidding me?! Fighting someone because “your” team lost?!

The Pats fans are even scarier because of the cult of personality surrounding Tom Brady, quarterback, ball deflator, Mr. Giselle Bundchen, nightshade avoider, or GOAT, depending on what you think. To fans, he’s “Tommy.”

The Boy and I went to our favorite bar for dinner one Sunday last year, and we stumbled into the end of the Pats-Giants game. The Patriots were still undefeated at this point, and New York was ahead. The bar was packed, and people were going crazy yelling for Brady. Think your classic blue-collar Boston accent begging, “C’mon Tommy!” One man in his twenties was close to tears at the concept of a loss. The Pats pulled it out at the end, and we avoided being stuck in a crowd of disappointed Pats fans. That experience was eye-opening to us, and one reason we don’t like being out when the Pats are playing.

It’s not just the guys though. Pats fans are equal-opportunity scary. I recently joined a curling club, and one of the other new members is a big Pats fan. When I wore a Pitt sweatshirt the week before the playoff game against the Steelers, she warily asked if I was a fan. I quickly realized my mistake in wardrobe choices.

As the Pats secured their place in the Super Bowl, we got to see her Pats designer purse, her special Patriots manicure–and the shirts that she wouldn’t wear when they were actually playing (no one in her family does) because if she did, they would lose.

Oh, I get it. Every team has crazy fans–I mean, even Chicago has funky super fans, and fans of every team have odd superstitions that they follow to a T so their team will win–but I’ve never felt the dangerous edge to that fandom that I feel here.

I finally realized my fear yesterday when I was on the phone with a client in Atlanta. When we started talking about the football game, I found myself hunching over my phone so no one would hear me talk. I work alone. In a home office. There’s likely no chance that even anyone walking by would hear me (notice how I say “likely no chance”).

But I can’t live my life in fear, so I’m speaking out now. I won’t cheer for the home team on Sunday. Instead, I’ll lock myself inside on Sunday with some good football snacks and silently root for Atlanta, because even if da Bears can’t be there, the NFC should win.

The Sports “Fan” at Post-Season Time

10 Oct

Although my husband will attest to being an American male, he does not enjoy the traditional American male hobby of watching sports. “I prefer participating,” he says. I have to give him credit for that, although I’m sure if “Monday Night Fencing” was popular in this country, he’d be the first to grab a big bowl of chips and plant himself on the couch to watch it.

I, on the other hand, do enjoy watching baseball, football, and hockey. Even though I now live in Massachusetts, I’m a Chicago fan at heart. The Patriots? Please. Do I have to remind you of the 46-10 routing my Chicago Bears gave them at Super Bowl XX? [note: the next Super Bowl will be number XLVII. The Bears have won precisely zero Super Bowls since then, while the Patriots have won three. It doesn’t matter though – the Patriots will never have as great a team as the 1985 Bears. Even ESPN says so!]

The Bruins? Well, my love of friendly wagers taught me never to bet against the Blackhawks again. Not that I minded the Blackhawks winning, but I learned a valuable lesson during this year’s Stanley Cup.

The Red Sox? I don’t believe in the American League. Period. Oh, Fenway’s cool, sure, but it’s still home to an inferior team. Yep, you’ve guessed it — I’m a Cubs fan. I do accept pity and condolences.

The Boy hails from Michigan, so by default he’s a Lions, Tigers, and (sadly) a Red Wings fan. He probably would take offense to me calling it “default,” and spit out a bunch of statistics that prove his loyalty. I know better.

Even though I am a sports fan, because the Boy isn’t into sports watching (and I have no office pool to bet in), I don’t pay as much attention to sports as I used to. I do watch when we’re at a bar, and if I’m working out on the elliptical or treadmill, I’ll put on ESPN or NESN, but I don’t pay as close attention to results, standings and playoffs as I used to. This year though, we kind of have to since the Red Sox are doing well in the playoffs (note: We also can’t call them the “Sox,” because the Sox are the Sox. We actually saw a Red Sox vs. Sox game this summer. Red Sox won. This North Sider thought that was OK). That news is pretty much everywhere. I’ve tried to engage the Boy in some kind of baseball talk–his team is in it too, and it’s all on the line for them tonight–but because of his fair-weatherness, I get to toy with him and have conversations like this.

Me: So if it’s the Red Sox vs. the Tigers in the playoffs, who are you routing for?

The Boy: The Tigers!

Me: You know who I’m routing for? <beat> The Cubs. Just wait ’till next year, baby!

The Boy: <shakes head> Indeed.

Hey, at least I don’t force him to become a sports widower.

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