A dad's football team

Supposedly the first words that I uttered as a baby where..."poopoo dame" ...which translated means "Notre Dame"...this is from my mother not my father who to him Notre Dame football was like air,  he needed it to live.

We were driving one Saturday afternoon in dad's prize possession, his 1949 Chevy fastback with skirts covering the rear wheels. It had its own garage when the rest of us lived in third floor apartment three blocks away. Where, as usual ,there was only one thing on the radio and from what I could understand from the back seat it wasn't good news. Suddenly the car would stop and my father would get out and begin cursing the football gods because the Notre Dame Fighting Irish didn't make a first down. They could be winning by the score of 96 to 0 but my dad would scream about some play during which he thought they should have scored their 100 point. He never as much enjoyed the games as he did endure them.

Well now it's almost fifty years later and I'm in his apartment trying to enjoy some time with my dad.

Bonding time, two guys having beer enjoying their favorite team. We they didn't make a first down or something again and off he would go..."they stink,,they are all bums..etc".... ahhh!!

Well I watch the games now by myself. I try remember the times when we came from behind and won a game and I actually saw my dad smile. It might of been because at the time I was jumping up and down more than the winning score but it was a smile. I know he enjoyed the time together it was that damm football team that would cause all the aggravation in his life...well that and Democrats and  woman's lib and anything post World War II ...and well...at least during football season I was there with him once in awhile to explain the a forty point Notre Dame win was good and that he probably would never live to see Hilary as President so he could stop worrying about it and try endure the game