This Sunday, for the first time since September 13, 2009, there won’t be an NFL game that matters. I know, the Pro Bowl will be on. But it’s not a real game. Heck, it’s not even as interesting as the preseason.
For 20 consecutive Sundays, I watched my favorite teams and players battle it out four quarters at a time.
For 20 consecutive Sundays, I wore my jersey, tailgated, cheered, booed and yelled at the television.
For 20 consecutive Sundays, I knew exactly what I was going to do that day from morning til night.
Now, I’m a little confused. I’m like a fish out of water. A dog without a bone. Bacon without eggs.
My constant companion, which helps me define who I am, won’t be here. And I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.
Perhaps I should take a cue from the bears. No, not the ones in Chicago. I mean real ones. When there’s nothing to do, they hibernate. Maybe I’ll just sleep all weekend and pretend like it never happened. It’s not like I’ll be missing anything.
THERE IT IS!