When I was first married I did not care much for sports. Other than a Cubs game I rarely tuned in. I especially did not enjoy football. A drinking buddy and co-worker invited me to his house in January of 1988 to watch his favorite team, the Denver Broncos, take on the Washington Redskins in Superbowl XXII. Given Jeff had caught his wife in bed with his best friend just a few weeks before, I thought I'd best attend his party.
What was that? You want details? Well, Jeff worked third shift. So did his best friend (who was also the Best Man in his wedding). His wife worked third shift too, in a different department. His MIL worked for me on first shift. Is it inbred enough yet? Jeff had been married for exactly two years. This company worked lots of overtime. It was not unusual to be called upon to work an extra four hours at the end of a busy shift. On this particular day, which happened to be his Anniversary, Jeff was called to work over. His spouse and his buddy, who both worked in different departments went home at the regular hour. I listened to Jeff complain about working, I went to the big boss and asked if we could let him go early. Others promised to stay over on first shift if necessary to make up the work. Since it was Jeff's big day the boss agreed.
Jeff was not surprised to see Sam's car in his driveway when he got home three hours early. He thought they were going to have some drinks to celebrate. He even purchased a bottle of cheap champagne. He was surprised to catch them doing the pokey part of the hokey pokey (put the love worm in...)on the couch. After he chased the jerk out of the house he threw the bottle of bubbly through the back window of the former best friend's Chevy.
When I arrived at the Superbowl Party Jeff was especially irate because the 'friend' had filed charges against Jeff for breaking the car window. How is that for balls the size of grapefruit?
Well, Washington destroyed Denver 42-10, and I left at halftime after the Redskins notched 35 points in the second quarter. Less than a year later I would leave that job and that town, never to talk to Jeff again.
Oh, the point of the story? The Patriots will not be denied. While it sickens me to say it, the game will be a blowout. I will quit watching at halftime, just like Superbowl XXII.
It is never simple with me, is it?
Oh, and thanks for your well-wishes. I am feeling fine.