Well, you knew this was coming. The San Francisco 49ers dropped the ball and the Kansas City Chiefs ran away with their first Super Bowl win in 50 years. They earned it, no question. So now it’s my turn to eat crow and I assure you that my spouse, the Carpenter, is only too happy to serve it up cold.
Last week, in this column, I declared my allegiance to the 49ers. It was a calculated risk in the spirit of friendly competition. I asked my husband for his team pick in the big game. His response was a rant about how, as a devoted Seattle Seahawks supporter, he would never, ever, cheer for another team in the NFC west division. He was clearly insulted by the audacity of such a question. Didn’t I see he was wearing his special Seahawks hat?
I couldn’t argue with his logic. I respected it. He was taking Kansas City by default. Fine. But my Dad is a lifelong 49ers fan, and he’s my other favourite guy, so I liked my odds. Decision made.
Unhappy with my selection, the Carpenter stated he wouldn’t speak to me for three weeks if San Francisco won. In anticipation of the glorious peace of our pending matrimonial silence, I forgot to negotiate my own terms in the event of a 49ers loss. See what arrogance does to me? My need to win and my desire to be right blinded me.
Why didn’t I barter for my own boundaries? For example: “Carpenter, you shall not speak to me for three weeks if I lose, out of respect for my delicate, sensitive nature.” But no, I didn’t think about losing. I was being optimistic (that never works for me). Instead, the gloating goat of certain victory foreshadowed my pending defeat.
To keep the peace prior to the game (and because I don’t own any 49ers gear), I wore my Seattle Seahawks shirt all day. That’s showing love for my man, right? I even wore it to our Super Bowl supper with our friends Kelly and Bill, who are my favourite football fans.
Bill, a proud 49ers fan, makes football fun with his humour and Kelly, who also loves the sport, makes the best snacks on the planet. They have taught me a lot about football. They enjoy a good rivalry. We enjoyed two Seattle versus San Francisco games at their home (okay, some of us enjoyed them). They make football fun (and they feed me – best people ever).
On Super Bowl Sunday, the Carpenter was outnumbered. But as the game wore on and the 49ers wore out, the Carpenter was respectful in his remarks. He likes Bill enough not to rub it in too much. Man to man, they’ve both felt the high of a Super Bowl win and the heartbreak of a loss. My husband was surprisingly well behaved and kept his self-satisfied vindication quiet.
Then we got home.
It was late. We headed straight to bed. As I laid out my pyjamas, the Carpenter leapt across our bed, drawing his gorgeous face close to mine for a goodnight kiss. Ah, so romantic. As I leaned in, he drew back suddenly and exclaimed louder than necessary, “Sorry you cheered for the losers. Ba ha. Good night.”
Then he rolled into the covers laughing like a hyena. Loser.
Guess who stayed up shopping for San Francisco merchandise, because there is always next year?
Loser.
