I am not really a sports fan. Actually, I am not a sports fan at all (except for curling....oh, how I just ADORE that sport)....ask any member of my family. They will tell you, "Nina is just not a sports fan...except for curling. My, oh my, how she ADORES that sport!
That does not mean I do not know about sports. My knowledge of some sports is phenomenal, if I do say so myself...and I do...Take today's Super Bowl Game....there I was giving Man of House play-by-play information whenever he was in the kitchen getting our Super Bowl munchies.
Yes...yes...yes...there I was doing just that...."Hey J, this player just caught a fumble on the free-throw line and now he's taking it in, babe!" (Ya gotta use the word "babe" when you talk sports...I really don't know why. But there was little ole' me making these daring announcements. He would just stare at me (with what I am sure is a look of incredulity...thinking to himself..."How does she know that much about sports and I never knew it???!")
But there is more to this story than an opportunity to brag of my athletic comprehension...no, dear reader, there is more...How much more? Well at least two more points...
The first point being that this was my first ever Super Bowl party....heck, it was the first ever Super Bowl game I had ever watched. I gotta admit, it was pretty good viewing. The game was good. The commercials were so darn funny. And the Saints played their hearts out. They won because they were good, not because the other team made mistakes....they really played.
Will I see any more Super Bowl games?...probably not. You see, I have another tradition that supercedes sports...except maybe for curling (oh, how I ADORE that sport!). It is one my father and I started, and now I am sharing it with my daughter. More on that in another post.
The second point was that my younger brother just LOVES LOVES LOVES New Orleans....he loves everything about that city, from the food, to the music, to the coffee and benyes, to the architecture, to the funerals. Ever since it was decided that the Saints were going to make it to the Super Bowl, he has been inserting "Who Dat" into every conversation we have. (What does "Who Dat" mean? Well now, I don't rightly know.) He refers to our New Year's Bread (known as Vasilopita) as King's Cake...after all, he reasons that King means Vasilia (from which Vasily and Basil come from) and Cake means Pita...and they both have a gift inside them...He has even tried to teach my mother that saying, as in "Zuto to Who Dat Ethnos!"....translation - "Long live the Who Dat Nation!"
This brother also lives in Greece...so for a good part of tonight we were connected. We laughed and talked, and he told me (once again) of his love for all things New Orleans (he truly does - it was 8 hours ahead where he was at but he stayed up to watch the game!) It was nice....it was like he was here with me.
The only glitch came about when I showed off my knowledge of football. I know, I know....pride is a bad thing....but I just lost my head. When I described to him some of the plays I saw he told me, "How come is it whenever you talk sports I get an ulcer?"
Jealousy is SUCH an ugly thing.