OMG. I’m officially a Sports Fan! Well, I oughta be. I mean, after all – I was a cheerleader in high school, a “Rockette” in college and I earned a degree in physical education at SUNY Cortland. Never mind that my son, Tyler, once said:
“Mom, are you sure you want to be on the chain gang?” His Soquel High football team requested volunteers for this job. “You think you know enough to know when to run out on the field?”
I replied, “Well, I can be on the dumb end, right?!”
He didn’t answer.
It’s because of Colette. Colette is from Chicago and she happens to be my favorite daughter-in-law. Now SHE is a true sports fan. Not only is she an accomplished emergency room pediatric nurse, she plays Fantasy Football. And she knows what she’s doing!
Soooo, I invited my neighbor at the Senior Apartments up to watch the game with me. He’s a Buffalonian. Buffalonians have their own language. He also likes tequila. So, we made a regular event of watching the World Series together. Not since I was married to Bill Mullins in the 1970s and we had season’s tickets to the 49’ers have I watched much sports.
Don’t know what got into me. Maybe it was Frank. Frank is the ex-Marlboro Man/Gunsmoke actor I help out with insulin shots. He can’t see any more, so I go twice a day and shoot ‘im up. He likes baseball. He can’t hear too well (he’s 88) so it’s on LOUD!
I don’t mind. I like Frank. He’s funny and he recites limericks. Also, we sing old songs together. He can’t believe I know the words to songs like “Over There,” and “When the Cassions go Rolling Along.” Frank thinks I’m thirty-five.
So, we got past the Cubs beating the Indians in the first game. Big deal! No, really, it was. It has been ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT YEARS since they won the World Series! So, we established a routine. If it’s World Series, the party is at my house. I make a little dinner, the neighbor brings the wine. On game five when the Cubs started coming back, my neighbor decided tequila was in order. I’m game for most things, I didn’t have shot glasses, so we used wine glasses. Mistake!
By game seven when the Cubs and Indians were tied three-three, I texted the neighbor, “Okay, come up for the game. No tequila. I have Chardonnay. I had a late lunch, so no dinner. Bring what you want to drink. I’m making popcorn.”
He replied, “Okay, I have some healthy chips, sweet potato.”
Just because they were orange, he thought they were sweet potato. Oh well, I thought popcorn would be dietetic. By the time I added the salt and butter, it would have been better to make the damn dinner!
So, there we were watching game seven of the World Series and BAM! Things got exciting! At the commercial after the sixth inning the neighbor said, “I’ll be right back.”
Out the door he went. I sipped my Chardonnay. He came back a few minutes later with two rocks glasses halfway full. Tequila!
“Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off,” I said as I took the crystal glass out of his hand. “It’s a song. That’s not gonna happen here”
How ’bout them Cubs?!!!
Well, that curse-breaking game kept on amazing us, right? Cause for toasting, right? I turned to my neighbor and said, “Get the bottle of tequila!”
After breaking my diet (they were not sweet potato chips, they were barbecue flavored). Orange, yes. Healthy, no. What about fitting into the Bunny Suit? I only have six months. Okay, I’ll start tomorrow.
The game went into overtime. The Cubs Scored! TEQUILA!!!!
Tequila didn’t make MY clothes fall off. I fell into bed with them still on. The next morning my eyes flew open and I looked at the clock. 9:21! NO!!!! I’m never late for Frank. Never. Not once.
I quickly dialed the phone, “Frank! I’ll be right there. I just woke up! I’ll explain when I get there.”
I live only five minutes away from Franks’ penthouse. I routinely give him his insulin shots at 9:00 a.m.and 5:00 p.m. When I arrived this morning with disheveled clothing and bedhead hair, he smiled and said, “There’s only one cure for that. More tequila.”
I went home, opened a bottle of Chardonnay, and remembered, “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off!” Best to stick to Chardonnay.
Go Cubs Go!