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Financially, I do alright. By no stretch are we loaded but the kids don't miss much. But when you look at the life I have been fortunate enough to lead, I couldn't ask for anything more. Besides a wonderful family and a boatload of great friends, I seemingly experience more than my fair share of weeks like the one I'm in the middle of right now.
Let's back up to Sunday. My wife came to the Patriots game with me and by all accounts had a great time. "Well, what's so special about that, Rousseau? Of course she had a good time. The Pats won by 17 points." The truth of the matter is that it was only her fourth game in the 11 years we have known each other. Now, I will plead nolo contendre for my share of the blame on that but the truth is the last two times she went, she witnessed a 41-10 loss to Atlanta in 1998 and then a 41-17 shellacking to the Chargers in 2005. This made everyone a little jittery shall we say about a return engagement. I'm pleased to report everything worked out as we had a great time together over the course of the day.
"Spending time together? Aren't you married?" Sure we are, but with two toddlers under three years old, it's not too often that we are able to spend time alone away from Elmo's World, sippee cups and potty training. The game wasn't so hot but being with her sure was.
A cynical reader would read this and say that I was buttering her up before I head out on a big jet airplane on Saturday morning and head for Dallas for the Cowboys-Patriots showdown. The impetus behind the trip is that one member of our tailgating crew, Stevie, got transferred to Dallas recently and it is our obligation to check up on him. Little did we realize at the time that we planned this trip it would be the hottest game of the year so far. When we bought the tickets through Stubhub back in August, our upper deck end zone seats were $125. Last week, they were going for $325 or so. Yowzers.
The consensus is that after we land Saturday night we want to go out to some type of authentic Texas steakhouse in civilian clothes. Not some place out by the mall but rather a joint where they'll take one look at us and say "You boys aren't from around here, are ya?"
As I mount the mechanical bull over in the corner, I'll make sure to keep my trap shut so that Walker Texas Ranger doesn't pull us out of a dicey situation for our own personal recognizance. But deep down under my breath, I'll be muttering "Your 'Boys' aren't in the same area code as the Pats and Colts, pardner."
I may not be rich, but let me tell you something Tex. I couldn't ask for a nicer life. As one famous Texan who used to work at Fenway Park would say, "It's time to cowboy up."
Ain't life grand?
Idle Zinger thoughts while dreading the reality that Tim McCarver is about to invade my life again:
Do you get shivers too when you hear referee Walt Coleman announce to the Foxboro crowd "New England is challenging the ruling on the field"?
Last week, I personally offered to drive Manny Ramirez to the airport for the Red Sox. Right on cue, he won game two. Waitress, I would like to order a basket of crow.
With Sunday's loss, Detroit is now 0-21 lifetime at Washington.
Despite the deep admiration and respect I have for the man, I still think he should have been suspended for one game. (And yes, I know everyone was doing it…).
I did some math on the $250,000 fine the League slapped on the Patriots. That comes down to a mere 5,000 parking spaces being charged $50 a pop to park a vehicle near the stadium. Peanuts.
I was having breakfast with a Bills fan, a Vikings fan and a Lions season ticket holder last week. The consensus among the four of us is that throwback uniforms just simply look better. Perhaps it's their simplicity.
I also learned from the Bills fan that the reason the Bills went to the red helmets in the 1980s is that Joe Ferguson supposedly couldn't make out his receivers in white helmets. Think about it. At the time in the AFC East, the Patriots, Bills, Dolphins and Colts all wore white helmets.
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