I’m a die hard football fan. Specifically, I’m a die hard Dallas Cowboy fan. I breathe and bleed the honorable cowboy blue and silver. I religously schedule fall weekends around the Sunday game and no Thanksgiving passes without me coaxing the server to schedule dinner around the sacred Thanksgiving Day game.
During my high school years, we often spent Thanksgiving at grandma’s house where the food rivaled the best football game. The football might be mediocre in a given year, but grandma’s dinner was always spectacular. Grandma was a shirt-tail football fan at best. She experiencied football vicariously through our cheers and jeers.
Showing no particular interest or allegiance, grandma sat with us mostly to bask in family light the way only a third generation can. She was probably waiting for an opportunity to start conversation, but her brood was so engrossed in the game, the only conversation was game chatter. Overhearing the referee announce a first down, she asked, “What is a first down?” An anonymous voice retorted, “A first down means they gained enough yards to get four more chances to try again.” Grandma thought for a moment and proudly replied, “I think once I got that far, I’d just keep going.”