I drive my wife nuts during football season.  You see, I attended Notre Dame, where football is virtually a second religion (Roman Catholicism being the first, of course).  And, several years after graduation, I still can’t shake it.  It’s not that I intend to be over-the-top about the Fighting Irish.  It just sorta happens.  I mean, I’m a huge Colts fan, too.  But, that’s not as big a deal to me.  If the Colts lose, I’m bummed out for the rest of the day.  If Notre Dame loses, I’m bummed out until they win again.  There’s something magical about fall Saturdays, that fall Sundays (cool as they are) can’t match.

Many women are “football widows.”  My wife wishes she were.  Because the term “widow” implies that you’re left alone while your husband is in the man-cave in the basement watching football 24-7 from Labor Day until Valentine’s Day.  But, I can’t seem to leave my wife out of it, since football (the college variety) all but determines my mood for the entire Autumn.  My wife would love to be a “widow,” but she doesn’t get left alone.  She ends up living through it with me.  I’ve apologized to her a million times, and promised to change my ways at least twice that many times.  Thus far, no success.

I know, I know.  It’s only a game, you say.  No, it isn’t.  It’s college football.  It’s so much more than just a game!