I'll Be the Only Chicagoan Not Watching the Bears



I used to be a Bears fan.

Many moons ago, when I was a young college student in love with a guy who adored football, I used to sit through hours of football games.  I don’t know if football rubbed off on me by osmosis or if I truly enjoyed the game, but I’m sort of remembering it was a bit of both.  When you’re in that infatuation stage of love, you’ll do almost anything to be with the guy.  Drink beer even when you dislike the taste of Heineken?  Sure. Go to his favorite restaurant even when you’re not crazy about the food?  Sure.  Spend four hours chasing a little ball into a hole on the golf course?  Sure.

And that’s how I ended up watching hours and hours of Bears games.  For years.  The boyfriend became the husband.  The husband took up fantasy football and as the dutiful wife, I helped him select his players for the line up each week, based entirely on intuition, and not from any real knowledge of the game.  “I like that quarterback, he’s cute. Plus, he has a nice last name. I feel he’ll have a great passing game.”  The hubby won a few fantasy games, but I can’t take much credit, because most of the quarterbacks were cute anyway– and the intuition usually leaned in that direction.

Then the kids came along and fortunately for the husband, I bore him two sons.  The boys now occupy the football space that I used to take up on the couch.  Their intuition is much more finely honed than mine– they actually study all the players on the various teams and provide weekly input for my husband’s line up.

Over the years, I discovered that I no longer wanted to devote time to watching grown men splatter their bodies for hours on a Sunday afternoon.  I discovered that Sunday afternoons were the perfect time for long baths, a scintillating book and some really good chocolate.

So today, I’ve been informed that there is a game between the Chicago Bears and some Wisconsin team. It’s supposed to be THE game of the year. Folks have been talking trash all week on Facebook and via emails.  My Chicago friends are all set to gather together and battle it out against our Cheesehead friends. 

I’m really chagrined that I have to miss it. 

I’ll be reading a scintillating book with some good chocolate by my side– on a plane ride home this afternoon.

 Oh darn.  


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