Hail Mary, "What a game!"

My cuticles hurt. Last nights game had me chewing my fingers down to nubs. I love football, because my Dad loved football. His high school won the state championship and he never lost that school boy love of the game attitude. Before the deals and the commercial endorsements, inflated salaries and “swagger”, Dad just loved to play, of course that was 1946. So who knew from the Super Bowl Shuffle and Bud Bowl 12.

It was practically destiny that found us all living in Pittsburgh, PA during the STEELER dynasty, so last night out of nostalgia I tuned into the Super Bowl. Alone in my apartment, wearing my Steelers hat which I got when I was 6, what? it still fits.

I yelled and prayed and screamed like I was on the 50 yard line. Kayla went to her room thinking that mommy had probably finally snapped and it was safer lying on the cool bathroom floor than being near the weirdo in the stocking hat.

Suddenly I started remembering a bunch of things I hadn’t thought about in years. I took my commemorative Steelers “Team of the Decade” Beer can down off the bookshelf to really look at it again.

Bradshaw, Green, Swan all smiling back at me from a time I sometimes think happened to someone else. The can has a pop top, for you kids out there it’s what Jimmy Buffet means by, “I blew out my flip-flop, stepped on a pop-top, cut my heel had to cruise on back home...”

Soda and beer cans had pop tops that pulled off and became curled blades of death that would slice you open if you stepped on them, ahhhh the ‘70s when danger lurk around us everywhere and we were all the better for it.

Picnics in St. Andrews Park on a Sunday, we’d go to church Saturday night so the family could spend all day enjoying the sun and Momma’s fried chicken and potato salad (that I still can’t manage to make). Daddy and I would play Bradshaw/Swan for hours. He’d throw me a pass and every time I caught it he’d yell and scream like it was the play of the century. I can’t believe I forgot about how that made me feel so special, that I could do anything, a father’s approval is an awesome force indeed.

Later I played Powder Puff in high school, another amazing experience to actually play on a field and have the boy’s varsity team coach us weeks before hand. I was the team manager of the Clearwater Central Catholic Marauders, I know nice mascot for a Catholic School, a small Mexican man with guns and a sombrero, and I still think I have my uniform shirt. It was a job which included standing by the coach and writing down the plays as he called them, running out onto the field with water bottles during time outs, and praying to god that that stadium full of people was not looking at my ass in polyester shorts that chaffed, but I knew they were.

Powder Puff was my revenge outlet, running around knocking the tiny girls down with ease, finally my size was an asset and it was as close as my Dad was going to get to seeing me in the “big” leagues!! My team won every year and though there was no trophy it’s still something I hold dear.

Dad went to FSU, and every weekend during the college season we’d pop popcorn hunker down and cheer for the Noles. It was my quality time with him; he taught me the fundamentals like what a down was and how to make one. I wouldn’t trade those hours for a size 6 jean, win or lose (mostly win, thank-you Bobby) we always had a great time. After I went away to school for birthdays, Christmas’s etc…there was always something FSU in the kitty for Daddy. He loved wearing his Garnet & Gold.

The Super Bowl is a yearly reminder of my parent’s anniversary. They got married the year of the first Super Bowl. So even though I am bad at math I can always remember how long they would have been married if they were still here, well I guess those years still count in heaven too so it’s a win/win.

Last night brought all that back. Funny how we lock away memories that only surface when stimulated by a random sporting event. It was good to wander down that lane, and yes I wore my hat to work and maybe I’ll wear it tomorrow too!!