Let’s face it. Sometimes we take our sports fandom a little too far. We obsess over matchups and pore over statistics. We watch the game on the edge of our seat and yell at the TV as if our words can change the outcome. We debate, we defend, we demean and we blog. We take losses out on our significant others and we feel the pride of victory as if we were in the locker room.
We are sports fans. And it’s a crazy ride.
Every Sunday is the same for me; wake up and grab the phone to check Twitter and get my latest sports news. Flip on NFL network while I cook breakfast and get ready for a day full of football. Two televisions watching the Bucs and NFL Redzone (The best thing since sliced bread) and nothing else matters.
Except this Sunday.
This Sunday I didn’t watch a single down of football. I didn’t (perhaps thankfully) get to watch my Buccaneer’s take on a Super Bowl Champion. I didn’t see Farve deal the Cowboy deathblow, I didn’t see LT stealing a game in the 4th, I didn’t see Eli top the Lions or Peyton crush the Redskins.
This Sunday I sat in Central Park in New York City on an absolutely beautiful day and asked my girlfriend to marry me.
She said yes!
Now don’t worry sports fans, my fiancée knows all about my sports fanaticism. She knows I’m more likely to spend a typical Sunday yelling at Chris Johnson to not beat me in fantasy football than I am to run errands or work on honey-do's, and that’s okay with her. But as much as I love football Sundays, this past weekend was the best Sunday I’ve ever had.
Now back to football….
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