Earlier this evening, the New England Patriots pooped their pants, then laid down and died against the New York Jets, getting knocked out of the NFL playoffs in a depressingly pathetic home loss.
Once upon a time, before becoming the emotionally mature male I am now, I took football a lot more seriously. I was the type of guy who cursed and threw stuff at the TV, and blamed it on the people around me when something unlucky happened 2000 miles away. Rumor has it than while watching Super Bowl 42 shortly after the 'Helmet Catch' by David Tyree, my wife walked into the room and asked how things were going. As I watched the Patriots undefeated season going down the drain, it's entirely possible that I cursed at her and said something like 'They were winning until you walked in.'
My wife, to her credit, handled it much better than if our roles had been reversed. If she cursed at me because I interrupted a lie broadcast of the the World Crocheting Championships, I would have unplugged the TV and thrown it out the window. She simply walked away, and after the game was over, calmly let me know, in no uncertain terms, that speaking to her in that way would never be allowed again.
Fast forward a few years, and I am doing better. Oh...it still sucked ass seeing the Patriots get knocked out of the playoffs, and it was made even worse be the Jets being the team that did it. At the start of the 4th Quarter, as things were looking bad, my younger daughter came out to see what daddy was doing. Once upon a time, daddy probably would have thrown her against the wall for her poor choice of timing. Today, I simply swung her up on my lap, enjoying the smell of her hair while my favorite teams season went down the drain.
Being grown up has it's own rewards I guess...although I do miss the excuse to occasionally break things.
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