Our second oldest son, the high school Algebra teacher and football coach who lives only about an hour from us (which makes him our favorite, if you ask him, since he lives closest) is here today. He's going to watch, along with his father and me, our beloved--yet heartbreaking, disappointing, and frustrating!--Fighting Irish play Navy. We're going to watch the game in our "man cave," where his high school jersey hangs on the wall, right along with those of his four brothers.
The high school varsity team our son helps to coach had an away game last night one town over from us, so my husband and I went to watch him in coach mode--oh, and to see his team play, too. I never thought I'd sit freezing my tushie off in the stands on a cold October night, watching a high school football game after all of my own boys had graduated from high school and left their playing days behind them...but we are fans of whatever our boys are doing, and these days, one of them is coaching the Bulldogs. Let's just say that we used to cheer for a high school team called the Saints, but now we're well on our way to becoming dyed-in-the-wool Bulldog fans.
Our boy decided to stay over last night, and it's so much fun to have him here in the morning! It feels like the good old days, when the house was filled with the deep, laughter-laced voices of our five lads. As I write this, I can hear him and his dad energetically discussing football in general and Notre Dame football in particular. I've heard snippets of the conversation, like "fumble returns" (which I think is a reference to a truly disastrous play from last week's game, when ND's second-string quarterback fumbled a snap on the one yard line, and USC recovered it and ran it back for a touchdown). I'm trying to put the Southern Cal game out of my head, and I'm really hoping today's game won't be a similar mood killer. Even though Navy is 2-5 and not all that good this year, and Notre Dame is 4-3 and chock full of talent, my husband worries that it's not going to be a lucky day for the Irish. Hopefully, he'll be proved wrong; but it's best to brace yourself for the worst these days if you're a diehard Notre Dame fan. If I believed in curses, I would say the Irish were cursed.
But check out this picture of my twin granddaughters (taken a few months ago). They look like little Notre Dame cheerleaders. How can you see this and not get pumped up for today's game? It makes me want to shout "Go Irish!"
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