When I write my first science-fiction novel, that will be dedicated to my dad. If he taught me the true love of and devotion to anything it was sci-fi. Nonetheless, he was the one who taught me football too.
We watched most Sunday afternoons together. As we lived relatively close to Chicago, that was the team we followed, but we were by no means fans of the caliber of the Starks. I suppose I should confess that the primary purpose of having the games on Sunday afternoon was to create white-noise by which to snooze. Sunday afternoons were for NFL naps.
Once we turned the TV on its side so that we could watch the game more easily from a prone position. Did you know if you do that to one of the old three-dimensional TVs that the color runs to the corners? Really. It does. We got scared that we'd ruined it and Mom was going to be mad... but it was ok (eventually) once we righted it.
Props to Dad for teaching me the game.
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