I am closest to my uncle Jay, without a doubt. He is here all the time, every day of my life, every waking hour. I haven’t been separated from him in nearly 13 years when he moved in with my mom, sisters, and I while looking for a place to stay; he said he was only going to be with us for about a week until he found a job to move into another apartment, but of course that didn’t happen. And now it’s been radios, nicknames, and paper fights ever since across five different homes.
Every Sunday from September to February, Jay and I watch football together, a real great way for us to bond even more. And even if the Lions are a pathetic 1-7, Jay will still tune into them, clinging to hope like millions of other Detroit fans. “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid”, he tells me, talking about how the Lions get our hopes up every year, whether it be in the draft with the addition of a star running back, in preseason when they go 4-0, or during the season when they start off decent (6-2 in 2007, my first year watching NFL football) and then totally bomb out (finishing at 7-9).
In 2008, they went 0-16, and my realization that being a fan of this team was going to involve a lot of heartbreak, embarrassment, and all-around stinkers was soon unearthed.
One of my dreams (and I’m sure Jay’s as well) is to go to a Super Bowl and see the final two teams battle it out for the coveted Lombardi. That would be the ultimate celebration for him. If the Lions were in it, he would be going crazy. If they were about to win, he might have a heart attack.
Where would it be?
The hosting city depends on who gets picked for that year. It would be great if it returned to Detroit so we didn’t have to drive so far, but it’s the luck of the Irish with that. I wouldn’t mind going to Indianapolis either.
Foil wrapped hotdogs and sub sandwiches with pricey cans of beer. Or if I paid a little more, a smorgasbord buffet of the most scrumptious but unhealthy foods you can get.
The great cooks and vendors of whatever city the Bowl happens to be in.
Preferably the Lions and…the Patriots?
Well, if New England is still relevant by the time my dream Super Bowl celebration comes, this would be an awesome matchup: a former 16-0 against a former 0-16. Legends against the upstarts.
Me and Jay have a rollicking great time watching 11 grown men/warriors on either side of the ball run around the field, fighting for a brown oblong ball (BOB), while trying to defend or get into a box about the same size as my house. There might be an interception or fumble here and there, a couple of instant replays, flags galore, and perhaps a game winning touchdown by a toe-tapping receiver. Cheering and roaring with 50,000 + other people in a game that is being watched by the whole United States and more would be memorable. Of course, football is so much funner to watch on TV, but that’s not the point.
And then there’s the halftime show. It would be pitch dark in the stadium as a once in a lifetime extravaganza plays out on the field, which would be more like Cirque du Solei at this point with flashing lights, rotating platforms, digital animations, fireworks, performers doing absurd choreographed moves, and the host of the gig quickly getting into a new outfit while transitioning from song to song. The halftime performer still hasn’t been decided yet and now the big game is about two months away. Whoever is doing the show will have to get all of the creative points worked out, such as if there is going to be a giant metal lion tromping across the field or a giant piano being played by two of the performers.
At the end of the game, no matter who wins or what the score is, one dream will have been checked off both of our bucket lists. The ultimate then would be getting to meet some of the players, getting their autographs and a selfie with them to put on Instagram and get thousands of likes. Of course, that could only happen on a meet-the-players day before the game, or if we had VIP passes into the locker rooms, the former more likely than the latter because VIPs are not just given to the average fan.
All in all, the perfect day would be all of those things happening and then having videos and pictures to look back on. The car ride home would be nothing short of conversational. And Jay would probably ask for something equal or even better next time, for which I would say “please, stop being so needy” – since he’s never begged for anything before.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “RSVP.”
Plan the ultimate celebration for the person you’re closest to, and tell us about it. Where is it? Who’s there? What’s served? What happens?