Last night the dreaded and obnoxious Miami Heat swaggered into town to play our short-handed Chicago Bulls. And, yesterday afternoon My Bull’s Loving Sports Guy asked with enthusiasm, “Do you want to go to the game?”
I was thinking…
”It should be a good game, right?” I guessed.
“I don’t know, it could be a blow-out giving the injuries on our team,” he said.
Although I love going to a game, and I’m usually pretty spontaneous – I admit, I kind of ran with his “blow-out” comment. I was thinking of stuff I had to do, and it was already 4:00pm.
I rationalized by saying, “We’re going to the Bear’s game on Monday, right?”
“Yep, that’s a definite,” he said.
And then I made the ill-fated call…”Well let’s watch the game at home – because there are a lot of Bulls games left.” (It sounded well-thought out - although later it was pointed out that the Bears game had nothing to do with the Bulls game. What was I thinking?)
He wasn't thrilled. I could tell – but he resigned himself to the fact. Again, the word “blow-out” was still hanging in the air.
Then, the gods of diversion provided a lovely complimentary holiday buffet in the lobby of the building, and the multiple plates of meatballs and chicken wings that we carried up on the elevator became the temporary focus.
We settled in to watch the game and I thought My Guy was content, all comfy, cozy and munching away.
Then things went awry. The Bulls started winning big time. Not looking like a “blow-out.”
Consequently, the repeated mantra that kept flying out of his mouth was:
“I knew it…we should have GONE TO THE GAME.” The Bulls are up by 20 points…blah, blah, blah.
Of course, I was the “dissuader” the “kill-joy” and totally to blame for the very undesirable vantage point of watching this great game from the sofa instead of in The Madhouse on Madison. Who knew? His “blow-out” prediction was totally forgotten.
I tried to soften the reality as the Bulls kept sinking baskets. “You wouldn’t get to see these commercials if we were at the game,” I consoled.
He just gave me The Look – a look of pain – as if I were sticking needles in his eyeballs.
Then, they showed a blip of apparently one of the LuvaBulls that got a marriage proposal from her down-on-one-knee man during the (not televised) half-time show.
“Awwwww, how sweet.” I made the mistake of saying, “I wish I could have seen that.”
“See, see” – it started again…”We SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE…I told you we should have gone”. He was definitely crying on the inside.
“More chicken wings honey?” I asked. But even the thrill of the pile of wings had worn off.
It was a roller coaster of emotion to witness spewing forth from his sports psyche… Surprise – at the score…Revenge – toward The Heat, interspersed with a lot of “Take that Lebron – you “bleeping bleep” all bundled together with the “we should have” rants. Kind of exhausting.
And then the Bulls were so far ahead that the Heat gave up. Game over… A “blow-out” for The Bulls.
My Guy came back with one final, “We should have gone – damn it.” And added the ultimate loss…”And everyone got a hamburger.”* At this point, all I am thinking is LALALALALALALALALALALAL.
All right, sometimes a free burger is better than all the free chicken wings you can get.
(* When The Bulls win and they score over 100 points – everyone in the stadium gets a coupon for a free Big Mac at McDonalds – and the crowd goes wild.) You have to be there to appreciate it, of course.
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