I used to hate football. I mean, seriously hate it.
When we moved to Boulder, every Sunday morning during football season Bobaloo would go to the local bar to watch the 11:00 Bears game. I would usually go with and drink vodka-lemonades and do the crossword puzzle just to get out of the apartment. I had no interest in the game whatsoever.
And then Lovie Smith happened. I love Lovie. All you need is Lovie. And gradually I started paying attention to the game, and then cheering, and then becoming a full-blown fan.
Nobody in Colorado is from Colorado. We met a lot of Illinoisans that season. That season was also particularly exciting because they made it to the Superbowl.
One of the folks we met was Grant. Grant could tell if his entire week was going to be good or bad based on whether or not the Bears won. Pretty intense, huh? I don't know where Grant is these days but I worry for his blood pressure every football season.
During one particularly close game there was a bad play or a bad call, some kind of play that didn't bode well for the Bears. And I will never forget Grant jumping out of his chair and animatedly yelling, "Jesus Christ!"
And then he sat back down, shook his head and muttered, "Sorry Jesus. Wait, no I'm not. We all know Jesus is a Bears fan."