Losing my voice...
The plan was to get the Oktoberfest five mile fun run over with, and join Kelley at Kincaid's and watch the Bears over beer. By the time the run, bruts and beer were polished off, the score was 0-14. Damn! I was soaking wet and cold, and thought it was better to just go home instead.
After a trip to the grocery store and a quick shower, I turned on the television to see how bad we were doing. 10-23. That was disheartening. Even worse was when Dockett picked off Grossman's pass and headed into the end zone. But a relief was in sight, as Lovie's challenge revealed that Dockett was down by contact. Phew!
Then something happened while flossing my teeth. A fumble by the Cardinals turned into a touchdown by the Bears. Mere seconds later, on a drive that the Cardinals was unable to convert, they punted the ball to Chicago's Hastert.
While my floss was still hanging in between my teeth in the lower right quadrant, I started to bounce like a little girl in kindergarten with her hands in her crotch desperately wanting to hit the restroom. Hastert slipped through a hole. Dodged a tackle thanks to a nice block. Slipped through the hands of another tackle. And he was still running. Going. Going. Going. Touchdown!
I yelled. I hollered. I jumped. And jumped. And hollered. Then a familiar sharp itch in the throat. Yup, I lost my voice in that instance. But I jumped still. Despite my left knee hurting a bit after a five mile run, I jumped so hard that I actually hit the ceiling! Ouch.
But all that excitement had to be contained. The remainder of my flossing routine had to wait. The Cardinal's Leinert was doing well. Drive after drive, they successfully converted. Until they got stopped within 50 yards of the field goal. Rackers came in. And this guy has never missed a field goal within 50 yards. I started biting my nails. I got uneasy and squirmy. The bruts I had earlier started to unsettle, and I thought they might come back out.
The leg swung. Contact was made. Pigskin was in the air. Albeit the live broadcast, that field goal was the longest ten seconds in my life, as if it was in slow motion. The ball apex on its upward curve. Coming down. The field goal got ever so closer. And... He missed. He missed!!! HE MISSED! Oh my God! He missed! By inches!
How am I supposed to fall asleep now? Especially when Grossman kind of sucked, and we won despite giving up six turnovers, down by 20 points, and all points scored by Urlacher's team! Say it with me. What... The... F...? What a sweet day! The best MNF I have ever, I repeat, EVER, watched!
After a trip to the grocery store and a quick shower, I turned on the television to see how bad we were doing. 10-23. That was disheartening. Even worse was when Dockett picked off Grossman's pass and headed into the end zone. But a relief was in sight, as Lovie's challenge revealed that Dockett was down by contact. Phew!
Then something happened while flossing my teeth. A fumble by the Cardinals turned into a touchdown by the Bears. Mere seconds later, on a drive that the Cardinals was unable to convert, they punted the ball to Chicago's Hastert.
While my floss was still hanging in between my teeth in the lower right quadrant, I started to bounce like a little girl in kindergarten with her hands in her crotch desperately wanting to hit the restroom. Hastert slipped through a hole. Dodged a tackle thanks to a nice block. Slipped through the hands of another tackle. And he was still running. Going. Going. Going. Touchdown!
I yelled. I hollered. I jumped. And jumped. And hollered. Then a familiar sharp itch in the throat. Yup, I lost my voice in that instance. But I jumped still. Despite my left knee hurting a bit after a five mile run, I jumped so hard that I actually hit the ceiling! Ouch.
But all that excitement had to be contained. The remainder of my flossing routine had to wait. The Cardinal's Leinert was doing well. Drive after drive, they successfully converted. Until they got stopped within 50 yards of the field goal. Rackers came in. And this guy has never missed a field goal within 50 yards. I started biting my nails. I got uneasy and squirmy. The bruts I had earlier started to unsettle, and I thought they might come back out.
The leg swung. Contact was made. Pigskin was in the air. Albeit the live broadcast, that field goal was the longest ten seconds in my life, as if it was in slow motion. The ball apex on its upward curve. Coming down. The field goal got ever so closer. And... He missed. He missed!!! HE MISSED! Oh my God! He missed! By inches!
How am I supposed to fall asleep now? Especially when Grossman kind of sucked, and we won despite giving up six turnovers, down by 20 points, and all points scored by Urlacher's team! Say it with me. What... The... F...? What a sweet day! The best MNF I have ever, I repeat, EVER, watched!
posted by StHalcyon at
23:33
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