My Husband’s Superbowl Sunday Dream
Since my husband’s job transplanted us north, even though we still are in New York State (I think) we quickly realized that when it comes to sports teams, we were no longer in the New York City Metro area. Up in Western New York, no matter how badly they perform season after season, this is Buffalo Bills territory.
The Buffalo Bills have trained in Rochester in the summertime for about 12 years now. There are shuttle busses that transport thousands of adoring Bills fans from a local shopping mall to St. John Fisher College. Outside of the LPGA tournament, and Little League it’s perhaps the biggest sporting event in Rochester.
If you are a New York Giant fan (well, actually they *do* play in New Jersey), you have to keep rather quiet about it up here. You don’t hang out a Giant flag as many here hang out a Buffalo Bills Flag. You also don’t go around wearing Giants apparel.
Not even on an infant child.
When our third child was born, a longtime bachelor family friend from “downstate” bestowed upon him an Eli Manning fleece onsie.
When I took my baby out of the house dressed in it one day to pick up my older son at his elementary school, my son’s occupational therapist saw us waiting in the hall.
Obviously a Bills fan, instead of the usual cooing that one does at the sight of an adorable baby, she rudely asked me,
“Why would you dress him in THAT?!”
Up here, I get the buzz that most Rochesterians this Sunday will be rooting for the New England Patriots. This seems to be the consensus among my 6th and 7th grade students. Because I think it’s the culture in Western New York that any team playing against the Giants is the team to root for.
Superbowl Sunday for my husband is a rather lonely day. He works hard all week with other transplants from even farther away: India, China, Europe. Not big Superbowl watchers in that engineering crowd. So, he really doesn’t have any friends up here. Not once in twelve years has he been asked to another man’s man cave for the Big Game. He doesn’t even need a man cave, he just needs a completely hetero man friend for a Superbowl date.
So, I’m looking for a date. For my husband. For Superbowl Sunday. You must be a NY Giants Fan. Must have an understanding of the game that exceeds that of his wife (that’s me, and anyone, including my daughter, knows more about football than me).
I asked him what his dream Superbowl Sunday would look like. Who would be there? First he said he would watch it with his dad. And our brother-in-law Kenny. (What about my dad? He’s a Giant Fan too??) And our crazy hi-fivin’ nephews Addison, Barrett, and Jeremy. And all his buddies from his grad school days at Cal Berkeley. They would sit in a newly made man cave, the one we will someday create in our basement with a big screen, speakers, a huge leather couch and a shaggy rug. Right now, that basement is a messy craft room.
They would scream things at the huge flat screen, like:
“I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY HELD HIM AT FIRST DOWN! “
“INTERCEPTION” and “HOLDING!!”
I think that’s what they yell. I don’t understand football. So help me out with some things guys scream at a TV watching football. I didn’t research that one all the way.
And for food, well I can do that. I’m making him hot dogs and wings and getting him a huge bag of chips and salsa. And some Tums for dessert.
And of course, the Giants will pull off a stunning victory. That, my friends will be no dream.