Sunday, January 20, 2019

See Into the Future

Inspirational song: I Can See Clearly Now (Johnny Nash)

That was worth it. My toes are frozen. No, my feet are frozen, not just the toes. My face is a little numb. My blanket has a little mud on the bottom, and I have to hope it's only mud, as Murray was feeling bouncy and frisky while everyone else was huddled under the blankets that he rolled over. But it was worth sitting out in the cold to watch the Super Blood Wolf Moon. (Do I have the name in the right order? I really am not going to bother to look it up.) It took forever, or at least it seemed to from about 50% to full eclipse, once the cold made its way around my blankets. That last sliver played with my eyes. I swear it shrank and grew a hundred times while I watched. I honestly didn't know whether it was going to be a full eclipse or just most of the way at my latitude, and while I watched that last little bit, it could have gone either way from my perspective. I got uncomfortable, and started looking around the back yard more than looking up at the moon, to take the strain off my neck. I built the four-seasons room around the hot tub in my mind while I waited for the shadow to finish covering the moon. And then, it was complete. The moon was golden, and more spherical than it ever seems when the light is reflecting off of it at full strength. It seemed so much more real to me, and so much closer. It was a golden egg, or a Death Star, or any number of things I could relate to and imagine touching, existing in space at the same time as me. Seeing it in three dimensions, that made the cold worth it. (Full disclosure: the moon pictures below are stolen from my daughter. I only have a cell phone camera, and she has a telescope.)

I can't say the rest of the day went quite as well. I am an admitted addict to the sportsball. Everyone who has met me or read my work probably knows that. I watched the conference championships where I've watched almost every other game this season, next door. I brought beans and cornbread, getting yet more practice with the Instant Pot, and settled in to the corner of the sectional couch, for a long afternoon of crochet and football. I didn't have a clear favorite for the NFC championship, but the Rams had a slight edge for me, and the ending brought me a little joy. The AFC game was something else entirely. I don't care how many people call him the GOAT, I just can't stand Tom Brady, and Bill Belichek can do rude, biologically impossible things and I wound be just as happy. I wanted the Patriots to lose that game so desperately. And that they were going against the team I've been cheering for for the last two seasons only made it that much more imperative that the Pats lose. The first half made us very tense. The second half was thrilling and the room was full of yelling and high fiving and so much swearing. We were frustrated and disappointed that the Chiefs' offense never got to touch the ball in overtime. It was a quiet, sad end to the day.

I think we will look back on this game for many years, as the day things shifted. I will go on record predicting that after next month's Super Bowl, Tom Brady will retire, telling himself he's going out on top. He looked into the face of the future tonight, and he has got to know his time is ending. Patrick Mahomes is the future. At 23, he is already able to hold his own against a GOAT, and he's got a team with talent and promise to back him up. Next year and many years after that have the potential to be a whole lot of fun on this block, watching the team in red. It feels like a dynasty eyeing a torch about to be passed.

I have had a Twitter account for at least five years, and for the longest time, I didn't put a biographical statement on my profile. Last fall I finally wrote one, that says something like "Sometimes I use sportsball to distract myself from the dumpster fire that life is. Don't try to take that away from me." That goes double for here. You've got to find your joy where you can, especially when the world would happily crash in around you if you let it. Let me rave about football sometimes. It keeps me sane, and it makes me happy, at least for a few minutes at a time. I want the same for you too, wherever you find joy.





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