Patriots: 28 — Seahawks: 24
I watched the game (Super Bowl XLIX — I couldn’t help re-naming it Super Bowl “ex-licks”) with my son, and it was one of the strangest football games I’ve ever seen. Needless to say, as the headline indicates, the outcome was the correct one.
My 14-year old son is an avid Patriots fan, as I was when I was his age. I’m significantly less avid now — I’ve played pro baseball — even played on some championship teams. But age, and success, and perspective and maturity can drain the competitiveness out of one.
I was right back in it with my son this evening. He was so excited; jumping around, laughing, punching the air. It simultaneously brought it all back to me, and was also more fun than words can describe. Soon enough, I too was jumping around, and high-fiving my son, and whooping just like him.
What fun, what beauty, what exhilaration can be in our lives, if we allow it.
Yes, it’s only a game, and it’s important not to take it too seriously, and it’s sad that Seattle has to feel the sting of disappointment. But for just a couple of hours, and a very tense, then jubilant, few minutes, it was just Daddy and son enjoying each other’s company — and I really enjoy Boomer’s(1) company — and having some plain ol’-fashioned fun.
Sometimes a daddy wants nothing more in life.
(1) His nickname. One day when he was about four-years old, I pitched him a whiffle ball, and he hit it over our then house. It was a three-story house, and the whiffle ball went clean over the roof, and rolled through the not-too-big front-yard, into the road. Now, mind you those were the days when I would have to try to hit his bat with the whiffle ball in order for him to hit it. I got pretty good at that particular skill, but he supplied the power to knock it clear out of our yard. He was “Boomer” ever since.