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A ritual with chips
As I arrived home I noticed a satellite TV company van in front of my neighbor’s house.
Stepping out of my Jeep I heard the start of the Giants game blaring from his garage. I almost forgot-it was the night of the big game!
I ran inside, turned on the TV and started rummaging through my pantry for junk food.
Typically, we eat healthily. But I did not want to sit and eat sunflower seeds and yogurt during a football game.
My wife came into the kitchen to help.
“Can I make you a drink?” she asked.
I grumbled as I pulled out a bag of potato chip crumbs, which was left over from a Christmas party.
“Do we have any beer? I need something manly,” I said.
(I must admit the kinds of drink I normally like come with umbrellas hanging out of them in restaurants.)
“Sorry, there’s no beer left,” she said.
(The leftover beer would have been from the same Christmas party.)
I am generally not a beer and chips kind of guy, but this was different. This was the Giants. If I were to have a favorite team, it’d be them because they are my dad’s team.
As I boy I loved going to games with him: the bright green field, the pretzels, the excitement! During this time, musicians had to share wall space with Lawrence Taylor and Phil Simms in my room.
Unfortunately for my dad, posters of The Beatles and The Replacements eventually crowded out the sports icons as the years went on.
But now there is a chance that my dad will have a new sports buddy: my 8-month-old son, Owen.
Owen is already sitting on the couch in red and blue and yelling at the TV as he slams down his sippy cup.
That is exactly how it should be! Football bonds families and friends together across generations.
It’s a chance to get together, a chance to share common experiences. And that is an aspect of the game that still isn’t lost on my dad’s artsy son.
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