jambalaya and my husband's fantasy (football, that is)

Football is back!

People!  Did you hear me!?  I said football is back.

As of last weekend, we’re back to jerseys, chips and dip, cold bottles of cheap beer, and the Sunday soundtrack of ref whistles and stadium cheer.  I love every second of it.

Though the Big Man is Irish, and grew up kicking soccer balls and swinginghurleys, he still managed to become obsessed with American football.   From August to February, his life is consumed with fantasy drafts and player stats and the Monday Night Football theme song, which has been his ringtone for so many years, even during the offseason, that I hear it in my dreams.

Approximately ten trillion year ago, during the first couple of months of our relationship, when I was in college in Northern Michigan and he was back in Dublin and we spent many a tortured hour on long distance overseas phone calls, he came to visit me at school.  I promptly packed him in a car and took him to his first football game, at Michigan State.  He didn’t fall in love immediately but I think that stage was set.  We moved to Baltimore in 2006, and that season the Ravens won the AFC North, and something clicked.  This was destiny.  This was football.  He’s been retaining a near Rain Man-like memory for stats every since, as well as amassing an embarrassingly large amount of black and purple jerseys.

(More after the jump!)

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