My 8-year old, Liam, is a Seattle Seahawks fan. I am not! I am New England Patriots fan - FOR LIFE!
I admit, I have tried to raise my kids as Patriot's fans, but that didn't seem to work out in my favor. I put them in all the right gear, made them watch the games, told them about winning, but I lost the battle last year when the Seahawks won the Superbowl. The "Patriot fan" battle was over, and my 8-year old had spoken -- he had joined the 12th man crew.
We both knew Sunday night's Superbowl match-up was going to be tough -- after all there would be a winner (the happy person) and a loser (the sad person). I hoped that my son would be the loser (I know, I am horrible!!) After all, he had just become a Seattle fan
last year. He has many years to go to be a sports fan and a Seattle fan. Plus,
he just witnessed Seattle win the Superbowl last year. I mean, my last Pats Superbowl win was a WHOLE DECADE ago!
Sure I have seen the Pats win three Superbowls, but it hasn’t been since 2004. And,
I felt like Patriot's fans had a whole lot on the line this year. We had to prove that we could
still win the big game. We had to make up for the horrific feeling of losing to
the New York Giants TWICE. We had to prove something to all the defalte-gate haters; the trolls saying that the Pats haven't won since Spygate; the naysayers who said Brady is washed up; blah blah, yak yak and yada yada.
I also felt this gnawing feeling that I didn't want the Patriots to become the new Buffalo Bills. Sorry Buffalo fans! (The Bills have the distinction of being the only team to advance to four Superbowls and losing them all!!) I know we aren’t Buffalo; we have won three big game appearances! But, bragging rights and redemption from the Giants games, deflate-gate, cheating
accusations, Patriots are getting old comments needed to get shut down -- our rep was on the line. The
only way we could do that was with a big fat in-your-face WIN!
The whole game we watched and cheered together as a family-- just the four of us… my all-sports New England-hating husband, my Seattle fanatic son, and my little four-year old Owen, who was more or less playing with his Avengers and didn't really care who won as long as he could eat as many Cheetos as humanly possible. I was clearly alone in cheering for the Pat's quest to victory.
We all know what transpired in the last few minutes of the game… it has been rehashed a zillion, bagillion times. One minute left in regulation play, Seattle makes a monster
catch and is bearing down on the New England end zone.
I instinctively start to
cry. I really couldn’t help myself. It was hard not too. I punched the couch and said out loud, "I am going to throw up!" Another Superbowl
appearance- slowly slipping away.
I was emotional for sure. In those few seconds, Liam, my little sensitive soul, came over to me and started to hug me tight. “I don’t want you to be sad,” he
said. It was hard for me not be sad. I
shared with him that sports will do that to you. They will make you want to
cry, and puke and punch things. They will also make you happy, cry with elation and on-top of the world. All of these emotions -- driven by being a fan (which incidentally stands for fanatic!)
As we stood there hugging and watching the last few plays of
the game and the seconds tick down, we watched what everyone is calling the
WORST play ever called in Superbowl history unfold.
Interception by New
England!!
I looked a Liam; he looked a me! In that split second -- we were both
crying. For the first time ever, I didn’t cheer or scream, or bust into a #TBT herkie cheerleader jump. I knew what had just happened. We had won the Superbowl. It was in the books! Liam knew what had happened too—his team had just blown it - BIG TIME.
I
couldn’t celebrate, I had to hold my son and let him cry and scream and throw things
and well…. know what it was like to be a FAN!
We have all been there before. That horrible feeling. And here was my kid-- feeling so sad, upset, confused and heart broken! But, in those split seconds before the tide had turned and New England won the game, my boy had compassion for me when I was feeling
low. He was so caring, sensitive and selfless. He wasn't jumping up and down, screaming, cheering or pointing in my face! The game didn't matter at that point to him.
I got to celebrate on my own this week! I watched the
celebrations that I DVRd. And I toasted to my team.
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