I'm going for a string of "Reality Wordzzles" - check out actual fiction writers at RAVEN’S NEST
Ten Word Challenge: snow and ice, vegetarian chili, pampered kitty, anthropology, do you own a home, coronation, you can change the world, hideous curtains, stammering, premonitions
Mini Challenge: Is there a doctor in the house, blowing in the breeze, shadows, comedian, sleeping disorder
I first fell in love with football because I had a crush on Joe Namath. He was part sex symbol, part comedian and all quarterback. I didn’t know much about the game itself but I loved to watch Broadway Joe swagger around.
Years later when my son began playing Pee Wee football I decided I should learn the game. I read books, watched NFL films and asked his coaches a million questions. I watched every game on TV. I’ll never forget the AFC Championship Game in 1981. In frigid sub zero temperatures, on a field covered in snow and ice, Ken Anderson led his Cincinnati Bengals to victory. When the cameras showed the San Diego players huddling against their bench heaters I laughed out loud – many of the Cincy players weren’t wearing shirts under their jerseys. One look at Dan Fouts made me wonder – “is there a doctor in the house?” – cause Danny Boy wasn’t looking too good.
I was a fan of working class teams – the Steelers, the Bears, the Browns, the Bengals. I loved rough guys from rough towns. I loved rebels. I still do, there just aren’t as many anymore. Too many players today remind me of pampered kitties – waiting for their next latte and demanding vegetarian chili. The draft has gone from picking a good old tough guy with heart and soul to a coronation ceremony for the next diva in shoulder pads. Ages from now anthropology will show the demise of beer and hot dogs under dirt fields, they were replaced by Starbucks and croissants served up in climate controlled domes.
As a football Mom I was sentenced to work in the concession stand with the other “ladies”. We were so delicate that the manly Dads hug sheets of plastic across the front to protect us from the cold. I hated the sight of those hideous curtains blowing in the breeze. They cast deep shadows on the field and kept me from watching the game. The endless flapping noise drowned out the sounds coming from the field. In one of my many “you can change the world” moments I walked out of the concession stand and demanded that I be allowed to coach. No more of this Dads coach and Moms make hot chocolate crap for me.
When my son moved on to high school football I had to let the coaching go. I couldn’t be at his games and coach my own. Wait til I have a grandchild – girl or boy. They’re getting shoulder pads baby!
And so the years as avid spectator were back. People told me I should join a fantasy league. At first I thought it meant you got to sleep with the players and I was all in – but alas I was mistaken. It’s a lot like a gambling ring. The leagues in Brooklyn were all run by guys named Vito and Rocco. Seemed to me that a lot of cash changed hands. I could imagine Vito saying to some desperate player – “So how much is the car worth? Do you own a home? Have an extra kidney?” Didn’t seem a good fit for me.
Don’t get me started on the leagues here in NJ.
But once again Blog Land comes to the rescue.
The amazing hotness that is ….
… started a league. I knew he would be the commissioner of my dreams and I joined immediately.
In the days leading up to draft night I nearly developed a sleeping disorder. What should I call my team? Which players should I choose? What would I wear to the live draft?
But The Commish was always there for me. Being a Renaissance Man – a lover of music and books …
… he was always prepared for any and all questions I had. Even when I asked them in my silly, stammering manner. He would put on his thinking cap and come up with the answers.
I tried not to ask more of the Commish than I should. Being the rock star that he is he has way too many followers …
Animals revere him; they hang on his every word …
He brings the generations together – both Moms and Daughters adore him …
Sometimes he has to disguise himself – just to get a moment’s peace.
All evidence proves that he has a huge heart.
In all my fantasy football fantasies and premonitions I never expected to win. And I was right.
Yet there is cause for celebration. I won the DFL trophy!!
Here I am holding it up for all to see
Here’s a close-up.
I’m the DFL!! That’s right baby … Dead Fucking Last
And Brava to KAREN who won the season.