Saturday, January 17, 2009

Steeler Dreams

My pre-coffee morning confab with my hubby. (inner dialogue in parenthesis) All "quotes" are exact as he sat with me to blog accurately.

"Babe, I had the BEST dream!", he said bounding into the kitchen bright and cheery.

"What was it?" (coffee, need coffee, what do i do first to get it going, oh fill the pot, what was he saying?)

"I was in the locker room with Ben Roethlisberger." (wow, too much to handle the humor or weirdness implication o that) "It was so real I could smell the locker room."

"And?"

"He was sitting on the bench in his uniform. He was crying." (oh no, the nightmares of a Steeler loss have already begun, coffee first, encouragement second)

"'Ron', he said,'Playing the Ravens is really tough." (gulp)

"So what did you tell him?"

"I just said Bennie it's gonna be okay. Make sure you look off Ed Reed. Trust that your Backs will pick up Ray Ray. When the pressure comes, Heath will be in the flat and Hines will find a seam in the zone." (coffee and a book to translate the football-ese, please God, right now, let me channel howard cosell)

"He looked at me. And said, 'Thanks man, I needed some love'. He puts on his helmet and hugs me and runs on the field!" (apparently even a big, football player needs love too, a little scared my husband is 'lovin' ben, more coffee to figure that one out)

I became a Steeler fan to save my marriage. It's that simple. I fought it as long and as hard as I could.

{"Put that down buddy! You can't be drinking dog water! That's disgusting! -insert baby giggle here-. Yes, that's the soundtrack to my blogging. Oy.}

In the early days of the marriage, I pouted, ignored, cajoled and finally railed against the Steelers on my t.v. As my husband bleeds black and gold, I was then faced with a choice. I couldn't beat them (the collective greatness that is the Stillers) I had to join them.

I'll tell you my secret. I watch enough ESPN, local sports and listen to local sports radio for that one tidbit of info I can remember. Some brilliant observation about a player. I don't know what it is. It's a bit like a parrot mimicking it's owner. I just remember whatever the rabid announcer said. I tuck it away like a prized biscuit in my pocket.

Here's the genius part. When my husband starts a random (and often) conversation about the Stillers, I pull out the biscuit. I sound smart and involved for about two seconds. Then when he continues with his bottomless depth o' Stiller football sports knowledge I am lost. I just revert to the wifely smile/nod. You know the one. "Sports stuff-yadda-yadda-sports-stuff. You know?" Smile. Nod. "Sure honey."

I too have Steeler dreams. However, they don't involve giving Ben well needed advice and a hug. It involves my husband in uniform and a dark locker room. But that's for another blog and another cup o joe.

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