I have to admit I’m not the most savvy sports enthusiast. Fortunately, what I lack in knowledge, I more than make up for in enthusiasm. I am a loyal fan, and I will root fervently for the team with the best uniforms. I’m kidding, of course. I’m not that shallow. I actually root for the team with the cutest players.
So, when I found out we were invited to a Super Bowl party, I was pretty stoked, as the kids would say. And this wasn’t just any Super Bowl party. This was the Academy Awards of all Super Bowl parties. With big-screen TVs set up in every room, a cornucopia of Super-Bowl-themed food, and an actual, live, in person halftime show.
Having been to a big football school, I understood the fine art of tailgating, but figured, now that we were all grown-ups, football parties had probably gotten a little classier than when we sat on the back of a pickup truck chugging beer from a red Solo Cup. Unfortunately, since I spent so much time before the game sitting on the back of a pickup truck swigging beer from a red Solo Cup, I never usually made it into the actual game. Therefore, my knowledge of football was actually kind of lame.
Since I knew I was not that sports-smart, I thought I would focus on the two things I do know very well: clothes and food. For the food, I wanted something tasteful and yet tantalizing. Then I needed an appropriate Super Bowl party outfit… you know, something that said, “I’m a fashionable football fan.” I put a lot of thought into both these things and when the big day arrived, I spun around for my husband and grinned.
“What do you think?” I asked. He stood and gaped at me.
“What the heck are you wearing?” he asked. I was decked out in my coolest tie-dyed football jersey with black skinny jeans and suede over-the-knee boots.
“I am wearing my coolest tie-dyed football jersey with black skinny jeans and suede over-the-knee boots,” I told him.
He guffawed. He snorted. I scowled.
“What is so funny?” I demanded.
“You’ll see when we get there,” he said snidely. “What’s that?” he asked pointing to the tray of hors d’oeuvres I was carrying.
“This is a charcuterie board with an elegant fruit, cheese and crudites display,” I explained.
He snorted again. I decided he had no sense of Super Bowl party decorum, so I ignored him, and we left.
When we arrived fashionably late at the party, I made my grand entrance. Nobody noticed. I stepped back and made my grand entrance again. Again, nobody noticed. Everyone was too busy scarfing hamburger sliders, loaded nachos and greasy chicken wings in their stained T-shirts, shredded jeans and sneakers to notice the idiot in the super-fancy outfit carrying a tray of super-fancy food.
Realizing I’d totally missed the boat on the food and clothing call, I decided the only thing to do was fall back on Plan B and at least show my host my superior sports knowledge.
“So,” I asked him, “what inning are we in?”
Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, “Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble,” available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com.
