Joy
Favre hits milestone, Packers stymie Peterson
Yes, it is vaguely cheating to count solely on the Pack to provide my content on Sundays, but you gotta understand, this is what my Sundays are all about, friends!
Sunday mornings I arise and immediately begin the mental countdown toward kickoff. I start listening to the pregame on the radio while I shower, and then I try to occupy myself until kickoff with minor bookkeeping: tidying up my digital and physical desktops, for example, or reading the news (and, indeed, a must is the sports section, to glean any loose details I've missed in the previous weeks obsessive scouring of news coverage).
Superstitiously, I won't tune the game in until shortly after the opening kickoff. No reason and no use looking for none, neither. It's just the way it is. Once the game begins, I'm locked in. Bathroom breaks and refreshment replenishments will only occur during commercial breaks. During close games, I'll get up from the couch and aimlessly and nervously wander in view of the TV screen, futilely reminding myself that I'm too smart to get so emotionally invested in a game, fer chrissakes! which never works. I talk to the TV, hoping my messages of exhortation or excoriation will magically travel back through the aether to their intended target.
I must admit though, that the lopsided nature of today's victory leaves me with less of a glow than success in closer games gives me (albeit greatly lessening the chance of any unpleasant coronary incidents).
But I'm still happy, goddamnit!
Favre hits milestone, Packers stymie Peterson
Yes, it is vaguely cheating to count solely on the Pack to provide my content on Sundays, but you gotta understand, this is what my Sundays are all about, friends!
Sunday mornings I arise and immediately begin the mental countdown toward kickoff. I start listening to the pregame on the radio while I shower, and then I try to occupy myself until kickoff with minor bookkeeping: tidying up my digital and physical desktops, for example, or reading the news (and, indeed, a must is the sports section, to glean any loose details I've missed in the previous weeks obsessive scouring of news coverage).
Superstitiously, I won't tune the game in until shortly after the opening kickoff. No reason and no use looking for none, neither. It's just the way it is. Once the game begins, I'm locked in. Bathroom breaks and refreshment replenishments will only occur during commercial breaks. During close games, I'll get up from the couch and aimlessly and nervously wander in view of the TV screen, futilely reminding myself that I'm too smart to get so emotionally invested in a game, fer chrissakes! which never works. I talk to the TV, hoping my messages of exhortation or excoriation will magically travel back through the aether to their intended target.
I must admit though, that the lopsided nature of today's victory leaves me with less of a glow than success in closer games gives me (albeit greatly lessening the chance of any unpleasant coronary incidents).
But I'm still happy, goddamnit!
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