I'm often in the kitchen baking up some sugary concoction while a game is on, but I have to admit it's one of my favorite sounds to have in the background. But last night was different. My plumper than normal rear end was stuck to the couch, and my eyes were glued to the set. The Oregon Ducks schedule posted on my refrigerator (which happens to be held up with two Oregon sand dollar magnets) informed me a game was on--and I was ready. I wasn't going to miss a single play during the Oregon vs. Arizona game. Their Blackout had no chance.
Something you might not know about me...when I'm alone, I get into football. The moment the first kickoff begins the game, my normally composed self morphs into a burly 40 year-old man sitting back in his recliner with a beer in hand. Okay, so I don't have a recliner, nor does my hand hold a beer...but you get the picture. The competitive ego emerges when no one is around to witness it, and I'm confessing now that last night, there were several fist pumps and whoops and woohoos. Whenever the 40 year-old man takes over my regularly calm body, Hutch gets nervous and attacks me with kisses, probably trying to return me to my regular self... and it works...until my team scores another touchdown.
Anyways, what I'm leading up to with my long-winded four paragraphs is that last night got me thinking about how I act alone versus when I'm with others. Why am I more comfortable throwing fist pumps when I'm alone and not when others might see the silly me come out? Where is my confidence when friends or family are around? It's not a lack of trust in them...unfortunately I think it's truly a lack of trust in myself.
So there you have it...football gets the blood pumping, the arms moving, and even the head thinking. Who knew?
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