Married . WithOUT Children
“It’s OVER!” I screamed victoriously, raising my arms high in the air. “It’s finally OVER!”
I did my own version of a happy dance as husband-head watched me, looking a little irritated that I was so overjoyed.
“Ah, but you’re wrong, grasshopper,” he warned, a spiteful grin crossing his face. “Football ISN’T over at all!”
I stopped mid-dance.
“What do you mean?” I asked, completely confused. “Of COURSE it’s over! No more Monday Night at the Football! No more Sunday afternoons spent alone while you watch the game! The Superbowl is done! The Pro Bowl has been played! As far as I’m concerned the NFL can go to .”
“Hold your tongue, woman!” husband-head interrupted before I could finish. “You’re forgetting about NFL Europe which starts in April and runs all the way through JUNE!”
Now it was his turn to do a little happy dance around the room.
“Football CONTINUES!” he cried out jubilantly, clapping his hands in childish delight. “It goes on ALL . YEAR . LONG!”
I stood with my mouth hanging open, unwilling to believe such a thing was possible. It was as unnatural as having Christmas last through Labor Day. .
“NFL EUROPE?” I asked incredulously. “What . do they play in lederhosen and wooden shoes? And instead of hot dogs and Coca-Cola at the concession stands, they sell bratwurst, sauerkraut and steins of beer?”
Husband-head nodded his approval.
“I’ll have you know, I’m a huge Amsterdam Admirals fan,” he announced.
Husband-head has never been to Amsterdam in his life, but it figures he’d root for the team from a country where marijuana and prostitution are legal. .
“The Europeans are supposed to play SOCCER, not football!” I insisted. “That’s like the Americans starting up a National Bullfighting League! That’s like putting Dick Clark in the Ricola throat lozenge commercials or having Monica Lewinsky pitching Mentos breath mints!”
It particularly infuriated me that the NFL Europe league had chosen to play their games during the “off season” – a period of time when I expected to have more than a seven-syllable conversation with my spouse. .
“And don’t forget about the Arena Football League, which has already started,” husband-head gloated.
It seemed I was in NFL hell.
“What in the world is ARENA football?” I demanded to know. “When I think of arenas, I think of ice rinks and skaters in prissy outfits . like Brian Boitano. .”
“Oh, the AFL has been around for a long time,” husband-head informed me. “In fact, we have a new team this year called the `Colorado Crush.’ It’s owned by John Elway.”
“John ELWAY?” I said in horror. “I thought he retired from football so we didn’t have to look at his big teeth anymore!”
A horse is a horse, of course, of course. .
In my mind, it was bad enough that we still had to watch Elway’s car dealership advertisements on TV and the full-page print ads in the newspaper.
But husband-head was reveling in my revulsion.
“And then there’ll be the World Bowl . and the Arena Bowl. .” he continued.
“I’m going to write my Congressman,” I decided, trying to figure out any way to put an end to this madness. “There should be a support group for football addicts like you.”
Husband-head was not offended in the least and even considered my comment to be a compliment.
“Football season is now like the Energizer Bunny!” husband-head squealed with excitement as he turned on the TV. “It just keeps going . and going . and going. .”
New Castle resident Heidi Rice’s column appears every Friday in the Post Independent. Visit her Web site at http://www.heidirice.com.
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