Confession is good for the soul they say (and just who in the bloody hell are they anyway?). So I have a confession. I missed a great deal of the Super Bowl on Sunday. While millions of fans and non fans were glued to their myriad of types of TVs. I was not one of them.
I was at a play instead.
Well, I was at one early in the afternoon anyway. When the Mrs. told me she was easily able to get tickets for a play my son and her would like to see, I told her of course you could. It’s the day of the Super Bowl. The two of them, not being fans of the game whatsoever, didn’t care.
Now sacrifice is a word that seems to have lost some meaning in 2010 when it comes to personal decisions. We all like to do what we want to do. Sometimes, however, we get to do what someone else wants to do. Today was my turn.
So off we go to the play, which was not bad (a musical adaptation on Mark Twain’s or Samuel Clemens’, take your pick, Life on the Mississippi…at least they kept it short and moving along which means I didn’t snooze for once). Afterward, the family and I headed out in the light snow to the Legends in Kansas City, Kansas. Now my main purpose in going there was to dine at Dave & Busters. If I was giving up the game, at least I was going to use my 2 for 1 coupon and get my favorite dish there, the Mixed Grill. Nothing like steak, chicken, and ribs, even if it was in small quanities, to make up for my glorious and noble forgoing of the game.
Along the way, before our meal, the Mrs. and son needed to do some shopping. Seems somewhere between leaving home and the end of the play, a slight wardrobe malfunction occured with the my sons jeans. So a new pair was of the essence. Securing those at American Eagle (sorry, K-Mart just won’t do in his school), I tagged along while they shopped for a bit. Occasionally even old dad found an item he liked. Of course the mall, a gem of a place built in fields near the Kansas Speedway, was quiet. Very quiet. Had to keep explaining to the family that most people were watching the pregame and game. Most people were not us I was told. Wisely, I kept quiet.
Finally, the shopping gets done, the meal is consumed, and we’re off for home. I get in the door, swap the laundry, and sit down to see the last 12 minutes of the game. I get to see the Saints totally prove me wrong. I had written in an essay contest that the Saints 25th ranked defense would keep them from hoisting the Lombardi Trophy. Well, that was wrong. It was me, in retrospect, taking raw stats and not seeing more to them. Kudos to the Saints for winning the game. The Saints fans are long suffering and deserve the victory.
And what did I deserve for my valiant sacrifice, a trip to the gas station and grocery store after the game had ended. I bet no one in Louisiana had to do that after the game, unless it was to get more beer, pop, or food to celebrate with. I was getting hamburger, milk, veggies, and other staples for this week’s meals.
At least I ended up polishing off a bag of Munchos and a Coke at the gas station for my reward. Just call it the key lime pie I didn’t get for desert 2+ hours earlier. On the whole, it still was a poor substitute for smooth, creamy, tart, sugary goodness of pie.
And next year…..I’ll have to do it all over again. For my family’s happiness, I really don’t mind, unless the Chiefs or Rams somehow get there. Then all bets are off and dad plops his rear in front of the TV. Screw the play if that happens. And I get my pie also, 2 pieces. Real big slices.