My Wife is a Football Widow

After the Broncos won their second Super Bowl, I decided to cut my loyal fan addiction to team sports. I just didn't feel the payoff was worth the emotional investment. Two months ago I fractured my shoulder playing in the waves at Venice Beach. All I wanted to do was sit on the couch and watch tv.

Well, Football is my best friend. Week in and week out I was treated to the amazing collaboration of pure artistic beauty, and bone crunching violence, all in the glow of our new 52" LCD HD cosmic miracle machine. My son Adrian wanders down and joins me from time to time, and we enjoy some great father son football conversations, as well as some commercial rumbles.

I fell back in love with this sport, head over heals. There's been no shortage of affair time, as the schedule is offered up on Saturday, Sunday, Sunday Night, Monday Night, and sometimes Wednesday and even Thursday nights! I pick the team I want to win based on different things, old loyalties, Broncos and Giants, then religious beliefs, The Saints, tell me a miracle wasn't involved in their last win. Then there is the better looking home uniforms against the drab white thing the visitors get to wear. It's all much more fun than the neuritic "My Team" addiction based on geographical location.

So my shoulder is getting a bit stronger, although still hurts like a fucker if I move my arm in just the wrong way during the commercial rumbles. The season and my excuse for giving in to the obsession so fully is quickly coming to a close, but it's not over till the bare chested golden god, and the the big honkered muse of the Universe sing and windmill! Meanwhile My Wife is left to wonder if I will ever really return, especially since I have two full seasons of Boston Legal in the wings. At least my life insurance is paid up.