The Formation Of A Fan

The year was 1977, I was fourteen years old and it was summer.  I was the typical teenage girl interested in nothing but boys, clothes, learning to drive, and more boys. Not only was I interested in all of the above, summer time changed the dynamics, so you’ll need to add beaches and sun bathing to those interests.

Back in “my day”, there was no such thing as SPF sun block applications and if there was any rampage about sun cancer and skin damage, we sure never heard it. The darker the better, we would slather baby oil until you could see your reflection in the oil slick of our bodies and if we ran out, we were not beyond using straight Crisco out of the bottle or can. Lard, we would spread lard on our bodies; which stands to reason, that my teenage generation may have unknowingly help create all the skin cancer scares.

But let’s shake the sand from our flip flops, and move back to the couch in the den, where it all began. My “learning” about sports if you will; that was the year my Daddy decided it was high time I was taught. And I don’t mean I had to sit and watch a few games with him. Oh no. This was a yearlong sports class on two of the most All American Sports today; baseball and football; there were plays to be learned and terminology that would become a second language.

My Daddy said years ago, he had no idea what I would do for a living or what my career might be in the future, but what he did know, was that if I could stand in a group of people and intelligently discuss a sports game of one kind or another, that I would always be able to carry myself and stand on my own; and he was right.

So summer of 1977 I watched and learned about baseball, and watched the NY Yankees and LA Dodgers in the World Series; pulling for the Yankees as they won the pennant. And that fall, I would learn all about football and I would pull for the Dallas Cowboys against the Denver Bronco’s in the Super Bowl.

The next year, The Yankees were in the World Series again, and the Cowboys were back in the Super Bowl; which must have meant that I sure knew how to pick a team!

I’m still a die-hard Yankee fan, but I move around a bit with my football teams. However, every year, no matter what two teams end up together, and whether I’m a fan or not, I pick a team and I cheer, holler, stomp and yell at the television up until the glorious or bitter end; I am not a quiet fan.  I have permanent “pound” marks on the arms of my chair.

The game will have passed and a win or loss will have already transpired, but I’m crazy about Peyton Manning so…..GO  BRONCO’S!