We live in Denver. All over town today, friends and colleagues wore orange and blue. We kept fingers crossed all day that Peyton Manning would prove himself to us, his fans, on Monday Night Football.
Well, except for my boys, who cheered and jumped up and down on my bed when Atlanta made their early interception. Then touch down. Then second interception. It continued until the end of the third quarter, when the score was 27-7, and I turned off the television.
I am a believer in the home team, even when they aren’t good. Even when my fantasy football team will lose if the home team wins. The fact that we have an “old guy” at the helm makes me love them even more.
My children have no such loyalty. The nine year old follows the eight year old where football is concerned. The eight year old typically picks winners, and randomly picked the Falcons two years ago as his favorite. The four year old goes for red uniforms.
And my eight year old gloats mercilessly when he wins at fantasy football.
Guess whose quarterback he has playing against mine in Week Two.
Guess who will win this week if Atlanta beats Denver… or even if that Falcon quarterback on his fantasy football team does slightly well.
I live with traitors to the home team.
Go Denver. You’ll get ‘em next time.
Shame on you, my traitor-sons.