Game Day

It’s a perfect Fall day.  There’s rain hitting the glass and I have taken cover in a neighborhood bar. Sitting here surrounded by jerseys, chicken strips and imports,  televisions in the background beckon the college team of whom the room is cheering.  The sound brings me peace. I have no need for really being involved in the game for it take me back to the basement of our house on Cedrona St.  Dad sitting in his chair, inexpensive St Louis beer in hand with appropriate logo on the pint glass, bowl of popcorn or other unhealthy snack available at arms length; fire in the wood stove. Periodically there’d be some outburst of joy or irritation.  If I passed thru the room at the wrong time, I got an, “You know you make a better door than window.”  I could be anywhere in the house and would know how the game was going--it didn’t matter if dad had a friend over or not.  The decibel of the television and his voice competed with each other.  Sunday meant one thing and one thing only--and it wasn’t church.  We’d worship at the pig skin throne.  Our apostle? Steve Largent and Mike Holmgren.  We’d be there rain or shine, family obligation or party, school committment or performance. Dad couldn’t tell you how old I was but could recite the schedule of his favorite Seattle team. 

If the game spanned into the evening hours, dinner was set up in front of the television. For 30 minutes the whole family became fans.  I’d ask dad, “What’s the score?”  After the play without looking away from the television he’d respond, “13 to 7.”  It always required a second question to find out who was winning.  Not because he didn’t want to tell me, but because his attention was now split between the television and his chili.

Now as an adult, there is something about the “sounds” of sports.  I can just as easily listen to a football game on the radio and it will wrap me up like a wool blanket.  Sometimes in the car I will turn on sports radio and without caring who’s playing but to just let the noise surround me.  Life changes but game day remains the same and this brings me comfort. The only thing that has changed are some of the players and coaches.  But for the spectator, it is the same game, same goal, same ritual.