Jump on the bandwagon

I’m not a huge sports person which is a massive understatement. I do like to attend live sporting events, mostly hockey, but I don’t usually follow a team unless I am moved to do so by my gut feeling. I guess you could call it my “Bandwagon Bone.”

I started following hockey when I played NHL ’99 on the Nintendo 64. I was always the Dallas Stars and I was just about unbeatable. I began watching the real life team and they won the Stanley Cup.

When we moved to back to Florida, I switched my support to the Tampa Bay Lightning and they won the Cup. What are the odds, right?

After several years of nursing school and general disinterest, a couple months ago I bought some NFL souvenir cups to help our babysitter, Shelby, with her cheerleading fundraiser. I chose the Seattle Seahawks logo cups since we were just in Washington over the summer. I then went on Facebook and boldly declared that the Seahawks would be going to the Super Bowl.

At the time I was openly mocked. Now, with the Seahawks record of 11-2, not so many people are laughing anymore.

Perhaps they won’t make it to the big game, but if they do, I’ll know that I called it for a completely irresponsible reason based on utter nonsense. The Vegas bookies would hate me.

If I’m right, I’m going to begin picking teams by jersey color and how well those colors look on me or if I have flip flops that match. This could be the start of something incredibly stupid. Stay tuned.

In other sports news, my son’s basketball team, the Hill-Gustat Golden Eagles, have begun their season with a bang. He’s also on a YMCA team so all we do is go from basketball practice to game to practice to game.

My boy is 13 years old and six foot 2 inches. He was born to play the game even if he still hasn’t tapped into all the potential harnessed in his body, but he’s come a long way from the kid who used to twirl around the goal’s pole and eat “bleacher gum.” Yeah, you don’t want to ask about that one. It is as gross as it sounds.

One of the best parts about his games is watching the girls play first. They are gritty and mean. You can tell they take the game personal.

The first time we saw them play, there was a grappling match for the ball between a couple of the girls. They wrestled on the ground for several seconds before the whistle was blown and then they disentangled themselves and shot each other some nasty glares.

My daughter said, “Mommy, they aren’t playing basketball. They are playing football!”

When the girls are done, they come up in the stands and help cheer for the boys. I’m glad we’re on their side.

When my daughter starts soccer in January I’ll be something I’ve always dreaded: the sports mom. I refuse to drive a minivan, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still going to be that crazed nut job screaming from the sidelines threatening innocent children on the opposing teams. This is my destiny. It happened so fast, I didn’t see it coming.

While I’m reluctantly led down this path of self-humiliation, I’ll go ahead and predict that my son’s team will be winning the majority of games this season. Don’t feel bad. There wasn’t anything you could do about it. I bought the T-shirt months ago.