The Gridiron, part 3

Once we got into the game, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the tickets that we had turned out to be our old season ticket section. I thought that was kinda cool, it definitely added to the feeling of nostalgia.

See, B.J. and I went to the games while I was an undergrad/grad and 'sat' in the student section (a.k.a. the section with seats that never sits down!). After I graduated we had season tickets in Section 17. Our tickets for Saturday were Section 17, row 43, seats 11 and 12. It was such a treat to be there, and it took us back to a less dramatic time in our lives: pre-children, when both of our mothers were still happy, (relatively) healthy, and still alive.

Saturday's game was...interesting. By far not the best game I'd ever been to--that would have to have been when Joey Harrington was playing (I heart Joey!), the 2000 game against Stanford. It went into overtime. What an adrenaline rush. I lost my voice at that game, that's how good it was. Ah, what warm fuzzy feelings thinking of old games brings up. Back to the point, the November 3, 2007 game. The first quarter ducks came on strong. They had a reasonable offense and a great defense (they always have a good defense). They scored 14 points in the first 4 minutes. What a rush! The Sundevils had about equal possession time of the ball. It looked dismal at the end of the 4th quarter, but then Dennis Dixon does the rockin' fake-out pass type move, where he didn't pass, and rushes it down the field for a TD! Man! that was a-some.

Then came the second and third quarter. SNOOZE! What the heck the Ducks were thinking...I'll never know. Good thing, too, I don't think I'd ever be the same if I actually knew what 19-22 year-old college football playing men thought. That would probably (definitely) earn me a trip to the state mental facility...hmm...come to think of it a nice vacation wouldn't be too bad. I'd get to see Oprah, uninterrupted! Well, except for the other crazies in there with me probably wouldn't ever shut up. Maybe I'll stay here...I digress.

In the second and third quarter the only good play, according to moi, football expert extraordinaire (hee hee) was at the end of the second (or third, can't quite remember) where there was only one minute left on the clock and, somehow, some way, they managed to rush the end zone for an actual TD--not a field goal, or a two-point conversion, an honest-to-goodness TD. Pretty hot stuff.

The game finished out with a little more pep in the fourth, but let's face it, it wasn't what you'd call great football. We won. Against a previously undefeated Arizona State, but the victory was Luke-warm.

After the game, and helping my FIL break down the tailgater (all of about 5 mins!) we had a choice: wait in the 500+ person long bus line to get a ride to our car, or walk to the car. We decided to walk. It was a good walk--wound up being 4.5-5miles. A bit longer than I guessed it would be, but that was fine. We enjoyed the crisp autumn air, the relative quiet, and just time together, alone. B.J. and I used to go for walks in the evening all the time. I hadn't quite realized how much I missed those walks until then. Of course I love my children, more than life itself, but sometimes I don't realize just how much they have re-ordered the flow and ebb of my life until quiet moments like these. We didn't talk much on our walk. We just were. Sometimes the best times are those that aren't spoiled by unnecessary chatter.

Once we got back to my Dad's house we were regaled with how well both children did. Peanut ate and Chub did not (whoa!? That was weird). They were happy, well behaved, minded my Dad and his wife, and generally did not wear out their welcome (praise the Lord!). However, my Dad showed us a bandaged finger that resulted from watching my kidlets.

A bandaged finger? Yup. My Dad had a bandaged index finger.

I asked my dad, "So, how did that happen?"
He replied, "Well, I had some work to do on the roof with the gutters to get finished up, so I climbed up on the roof to knock it out. The next thing I know I'm moving the metal around and I catch something out of the corner of my eye."

At this point I'm thinking 'oh no.'

"And I turn and look, and there's Kai! He's on top of the roof, just standing there, watching me! I couldn't believe it. The baby is on the roof. Well, I'm scared to death that he's going to fall or get hurt, so I tossed the gutter aside quickly, and in the process sliced open my finger--a good inch-and-a-half. Probably should get stitches. Blood was spurting everywhere."

I'm a little green around the gills right now, thinking of my dad gushing blood--he bleeds like a stuck pig--and having visions of my little man on the roof.

He continues on, "I went right over to him and grabbed him. He was sure interested in watching my finger spurt--I don't think I got any on his clothes--and I carried him down the ladder. What I couldn't figure out," and he gestures here with his hands to indicate 14-16" space, "is how he managed to climb up the ladder. He's just a little guy...it scared the hell out of me."

I, on the other hand, was not the slightest bit surprised that my Chublet managed to shimmy up the ladder. He's part monkey, I swear. Didn't mean I wasn't mildly FREAKED OUT that my 2 year old managed to climb up a ladder and find himself standing on the roof, but I wasn't even remotely shocked that he could climb up there.

In the end, no harm, no foul. Dad's finger will be OK. Chubb-chubb was just trying to 'help'--he is my helper-boy, to a fault. And everyone had a good time.

The drive home was uneventful--I passed out just as we were leaving town, and woke up about 2 miles from home. What a great day.

I just love college football.