Here’s where my recapping catches up with my actual blogging, if only for a moment. Yes, the Greyhound bore me away from my sister and LA, and toward my cousin and San Francisco. Alison is my cousin’s name— she picked me up from the bus station, made me pasta for supper, and then let me crash on the couch for 10 solid hours of blissful sleep. The next day, I got a chance to talk a bit with her husband Steve and to meet her five-month-old, Olivia. I spent the day in San Fran, and I returned a little after three o’clock to find the highlight of the day underway: the Super Bowl party!
A few of Steve and Alison’s friends had come over to celebrate the event, including a couple with a nine-month-old to keep Olivia company. I settled onto the couch and began munching on pretzels. I had learned it was the Giants vs. the Patriots, and since I have a deep resentment against the Pats (well… as deep as someone who doesn’t watch football can have), I decided to pull for the New York team. Fortunately, I was in good company of diehard Giants fans.
I hadn’t actually sat down and watched a football game since last year’s Super Bowl, which consisted of me at a hostel, a lone Packers’ fan cheering for Green Bay as three other Americans pulling for the Steelers were more interested in the snack mix than the game. Hardly an inspiring event. This year was a welcome contrast: football is my favorite sport to begin with, and the testosterone of the watchers is the fuel of a good game. This group of guys did not disappoint: they complained at the commentators, they yelled at the coaches, and they hollered and screamed at every touchdown the Giants made. When Tom Brady threw the final pass and the Giants’ defense batted the ball down and won the game, the guys leaped from their seats in joyful hysteria.
Alison seemed very surprised that I had been so engaged in the game. “I didn’t know you liked football,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” I said, “when you’ve got a good group to watch it with.”
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