My new year's routine is to put away Christmas decorations while watching The Rose Bowl. Because January first fell on a Sunday, the pro game took precedence, and for us here, it was a pretty terrific day. Bob's Packers beat division foe Detroit while sitting many Green Bay starters. My 49ers were mauling the hapless Rams, then narrowly escaped with a win after St. Louis scored seventeen points in the fourth quarter. Our teams will sit out next week's playoffs, then hosting their respective second round games. It did seem strange however, as The Rose Bowl, the granddaddy of college bowl games, was missing. Most of the current bowl games are rubbish, ESPN plumping for the advertiser's dollar (and the fans' too). To my dismay, this year's Rose Bowl isn't on ABC, but ESPN, both owned by the same company. Right now the Wisconsin Badgers are driving, tied with the Oregon Ducks (and their abysmally obnoxious mirror-like helmets) 21 all. Oregon races down the field for their touchdowns, Wisconsin more methodical, and I keep thinking instead of Badgers, warhorse announcer Brent Musburger is saying Packers. Or maybe that's just my Green Bay lovin' husband infiltrating my brain.
So the decorations have been boxed away, waiting for Bob to deposit them in the garage. He's out there watching aged VHS tapes; over the last week it was the 1997 Super Bowl, the Packers beating the New England Patriots. Today he's enmeshed in the Clinton-Lewinsky saga on CNN; why in the world did we bother taping that sort of hoo-haa? Because we could, I guess. He's a real sucker for TV; I'm all about sport, Doctor Who, the occasional old movie he finds, or the superb episode of The Twilight Zone. "Number 12 Looks Just Like You" is probably the most prophetic single slice of television I have ever seen; if you get a chance, don't miss it! But that's all I watch, which at this time of year, New Year's Day specifically, is enough. After The Rose Bowl (which just took a turn Wisconsin's way as they picked up a fumble, running it in for a touchdown) is the Fiesta Bowl (on ESPN, bah!) featuring Andrew Luck, oh and the rest of Stanford University's football team. If you follow American football, you probably know the Indianapolis Colts won the Suck For Luck sweepstakes yesterday. I've not followed Luck's college career other than awareness he was cruising to the NFL after this school year, and most likely, he'll play for the Colts, one of these days. In This Blog Has No Name, Griffin Miller contends the only use for the college game is to feed the National Football League. I tend to feel the same. Except for The Rose Bowl on New Year's Day.
Not sure if I'll watch the BCS Championship game (which is NOT a bowl game, but is also shown on ESPN, and don't even get me started on MNF's Jon Gruden); LSU and Alabama repeat their Southeastern Conference game from earlier in the year (LSU won 9-6 in overtime, big whoop). By then, 9 January, all the new year's bowl game aura is gone. When I was a kid (crabby small old-lady rant coming) all the bowl games (I think there were about six, maybe seven instead of the nearly forty) took place January first or right afterwards. The Orange Bowl, Sugar Bowl, Cotton Bowl, Fiesta Bowl, and The Rose Bowl. Now it's a farce, just like Oregon's absurd metallic helmets.
So what does that have to do with writing? Well, I didn't do any today! Or editing or any of that (Although another idea popped into my head after Bob and I had breakfast in Los Gatos...). Tomorrow Bob returns to work, so today was one last moment to unwind, frolic, and we did, going to Capitola, then Gayle's. He's not a Gayle's fan, but did enjoy his hot chocolate and the bear claw. I liked the bear claw too.
We stopped at Michael's craft store on the way home; I needed another skein of burgundy yarn, bought two more blue and a stunning medium purple just for kicks. Once home he pruned the grapevine while I crocheted, waiting for The Rose Bowl to take down decorations. Now it's halftime, this blog is nearly done, he's still puttering in the garage, but Bill and Monica are over (in so many ways). Bob's faffing with an old turntable; yes, my husband has a turntable and the rest of a working stereo in the garage. He's hoping to have fixed a record player that went too fast. I'm going to watch the rest of The Rose Bowl (tied 28 all), then some of the next game, see if Andrew Luck is all he's cracked up to be. The sun is peeking out from heavy cloud cover, but no rain, none for weeks. The reservoir along Highway 17 to Capitola is as low as I have ever seen, looks like the end of the world as dry ground rises where water should be. I'd love to say rain is in the forecast, but it's not. Just a few more bowl games, the all-star games they call them now. The ones aired through the second half of December were just fodder for ESPN, pure pap. But when I look at what my husband watches either on our inside TV or on old VHS tapes in the garage, well, not much has changed. The 1997 Super Bowl and "Number 12 Looks Just Like You" are the exceptions; as a writer and a reader, TV is the bane of my existence.
Well, except for Sundays during football season, Wimbledon, and when Doctor Who is on...
0 comments:
Post a Comment