I have already extended apologies to the people in the apartment below the Man Cave for all the shouting, cheering, stomping and screaming that will no-doubt emanate from our New York-area apartment. But the cheers etcetera will NOT be coming from my sons, nor from my loving husband. Nope. The one who goes into complete Beast Mode during Seahawks games is ME. My sons, in fact, have informed me they no longer wish to watch football with me because Mom is “too loud.” My husband has been known to CRINGE at the tone I use against the referees, which is one I generally reserve for trucks speeding through school zones.
Yes. I am a Seahawk fan. With all due respect, this is NOT like saying I’m a Giants fan, or a Jets fan. OHHHHHH no. I’m one of those loud, crazy, they-must-be-pumping-noise-into-that-stadium-because-no-place-could-REALLY-be-that-loud, FAN. Don’t believe there’s a 12th Man at Seattle games? Just add up the number of false starts by opposing teams. I love Blitz, Skittles and am pretty darn sure my blood is blue. And lime green.
Now, it is not lost on me how STRANGE it might seem that I am the biggest football fan in a home full of men. Perhaps it’s because our Man Cave is of the more geeky-than-sporty variety. Perhaps it is genetic (note that my baby sister might, just MIGHT, be as big a Seahawk fan as I am). Or perhaps it truly does frighten my family when the quiet, patient, sweet blonde goes into BEAST MODE . . . much as it must terrify visiting teams to see the normally quiet, flannel wearing pale people of the northwest turn into one giant, shouting blue machine.
To the faint of heart, I promise the insanity will subside at some point. But likely NOT until after the Super Bowl <wink>
This has been an actual conversation in the Man Cave. What’s the Man Cave? Read this.