There’s an intangible, sort-of-cosmic backstory that might shed a bit of light…
It comes as a surprise to some who think I’m only all about shopping and seashells and being princess-like — when they find out I love football and camping and hiking. It might seem out of character, but I guess I’m a living, breathing contradiction, more faceted and complex than one might imagine.
For the first twenty-five years of my life, I didn’t care one way or another about football (or most sports) until I was pregnant with the one and only Original Angel Boy.
In a strangely illuminated memory, I will always recollect the fall of 1980. I was about four months pregnant and the disabling, extreme morning sickness had FINALLY abated, albeit without almost needing to be hospitalized for Hyperemesis gravidarum, just like Princess Catherine.
On this particular Sunday, I heard the sounds of football in the living room, which meant the San Diego Chargers and Dan Fouts were playing. I finished feeding the dogs or whatever I was doing in the kitchen and sat down to watch the game, drawn to it in a way I had had never been before that exact moment.
I asked question after question, hungering for each and every detail — what was a down or offsides or a running back. I was thirsty for knowledge.
After that day, I became a football fan, not to the point of wearing team apparel, but actually anticipating the next season and whether we’d make the playoffs or not. With the Chargers, it was mostly NOT.
It was that late October day that I knew beyond a shadow of any doubt — I was going to have a boy. It was all that testosterone, I was sure of it! In fact, I bet my doctor that my intuition was right. This was before ultrasounds were a routine diagnostic tool in pregnancy so there was no way to scientifically predict the sex of a baby. If it was medically necessary, I could have had amniocentesis, but that was a slightly risky procedure and not advised simply to win a wager.
However, right after I delivered my perfect boy a few months later, I said to the doc, “I told you so, I told you I was having a boy. I knew it.“
In 1994, the Chargers made their first and, so far, only Super Bowl appearance, against the 49ers in Super Bowl XXIX. Of course they lost to quarterback Steve Young and the amazing wide receiver Jerry Rice, but it was an exciting game.
Recently, Angel Boy, DIL, and I were having a conversation about the Seattle Seahawks and why they’re not doing so well this year. When DIL asked a question about quarterbacks, AB and I explained the details of a trade and coaching staff…not only did she have no idea that I harbor an affinity for the game, but she also had no idea that my son STILL, after all these years, had stat after stat stored up in that giant brain of his. She was gobsmacked, as the Brits like to say. It was funny to see her reaction. To me, she said, “How could you like football? It’s everything you hate; crowds and noise!” I told her there was something exciting about the energy of attending a game that was infectious (in a good way), to root for your team.
As I said, some people are surprised by me!
Here’s the psychology of it, and since she’s a neuroscientist, these facts appealed to her: Following a sports team can give us a tremendous sense of belonging, even if it comes with a bit of intensity, Much of the enjoyment we get from watching our team can be traced to the feel-good chemical, dopamine. For a short period of time, we are diverted away from personal problems and able to focus on things outside of ourselves.
All these memories are being stirred up because the AFL-NFL playoffs are on Sunday. Nope, the Chargers (in LA now) aren’t playing, but my other hometown team, the Detroit Lions, are in their first playoff game since 1992. At that time, Detroit faced Washington for the chance to advance to the Super Bowl, but couldn’t make it happen.
Until this year, the Lions have gone thirty-one seasons without reaching a championship round or winning another post-season playoff. I hope they win because I like to root for the underdog, but since they’re playing the 12-5 San Francisco 49rs, they probably won’t stand a chance.
The other playoff game is Kansas City Chiefs against the Baltimore Ravens. I don’t have an interest in either team but the frenzy surrounding Taylor Swift’s romance with Travis Kelce, the Chief’s tight end, makes it slightly appealing because the cameras love to show Taylor’s reactions while she’s in a private luxury box. “What’s Taylor doing? What’s she wearing?”, that kind of thing…
Whoever wins these games will meet at the Super Bowl on February 11.
Still rehabbing my poor little leg, I can’t do much walking or a whole lot of other physical activity until the sutures are removed, so I’m probably going to do nothing but watch football on Sunday.
Go LIONS!
Enchanted Seashells by Princess Rosebud 