Special Delivery...

Someone in my family has a sweet spot for The Boy. I bet not soon after reading last week's post about Carter getting into the memorabilia stash again, did one particular Softy begin to frantically find a solution to The Boy's scrapped football games.

Carter received a special delivery today from the Postman. The sender was incognito, and no note was attached. But we figured we could pinpoint which of the Massachusetts relatives sent the package. How you ask? Because of it's contents. There are no Colts fans in my family that would have paid money for this, even if it was for a sweet 7 year old boy who cannot keep his hands off of his Dad's autographed football. So, it had to be from our Patriots side of the family tree.

Carter was in heaven when he opened his delivery. He immediately ran outside to play with it. Before I could get my camera fired up, he rushed inside, flew upstairs touching maybe 5 steps and fumbled through his closet to find his #4 Adam Vinatieri jersey. He wanted to be a kicker. Because his new gift came with a kicking tee, and one must be in full gear when practicing right?

It was all I could do to contain my giggles, when he finally emerged from his room, wearing the complete ensemble of a Colts player. Helmet, jersey, pants - he was serious about his game. And out he went. I had fun capturing the innocence of his youth, all dressed up and ready to tackle anyone who dared to enter the yard. He spent the next hour being a quarterback, kicker, center and punter. Thankfully, he didn't feel the need to change jersey's each time.

Considering the rivalry between the Colts and Patriots as teams (and my family split down the middle), it's pretty cute to see a kid dressed in one team's gear, playing with the opposing team's ball.






Now if we could just get Peyton Manning to sign his new Patriots ball.... that'd be funny, but then Carter would have to go back to playing with Nerf.



Thanks John & Mary, you made his day!

Day 5 - The Loss

Final Score: 24 - 20

So I took some time to mourn The Loss, and figured I'd better open the blinds and let the sunshine in to shake my blues. I can't mope all day, though I want to. But it's time to brush the dust off and remember it was just a game. Boy that's hard. The only thing that helps it feel a little better, is knowing that I was not alone in my sorrow. Every Colts fan across the nation felt the same way when the Colts were not able to stop the Patriots right before the 2-minute warning. To watch Tom Brady kneel and run out the clock was painful. How does one literally feel the wind get knocked out of them without being physically touched? That was the feeling. Precisely. If you listened closely outside after the game, you could hear the sound of Taps coming out from every chimney in Indiana. Am I being overly dramatic? Good - because I'm still sulking. As an avid fan, you invest so much feeling into the whole experience. You consider it your Team. Yours alone. Every fan thinks that. It's my team. You stop to get gas - you're surrounded by fans in jerseys at the pumps beside you. You buy a soda or a pack of gum - and discuss your team with the check-out clerk. You waste so much time at work talking about the 'what ifs' with your collegues. You go anywhere - the mall, the movies, to dine, for a walk - and you're a part of IT. It gives everyone, from every walk of life, a common topic and united front to rally over. And then the media hypes it beyond what you could ever imagine, and suddenly you can't help but get sucked into the vortex of the intense excitement and anxiety of it all. So you see, how could we not be gasping for our breath at 7:15 last night? And still today...

Nahant, MA. Boston, MA. Ottawa, Ontario Canada. Zionsville, IN. Gloucester, MA. Indianapolis, IN. That was the order of telephone calls received before, during and after The Game. My good friend back East shook my virtual hand and said Good Luck. And I know she meant it. One of my uncles called to ask me if I like mustard or ketchup on my Horseburgers. And he meant it. My great aunt all the way in Canada, who admittedly doesn't know a thing about sports, called to say (with such excitement) that she couldn't believe we were up 6 points (She doesn't know that's how much 1 touchdown is worth. I think she was thinking in terms of hockey scores or baseball, in which that WOULD be a huge lead!). Both sets of our parents called - one to ask jokingly if we were watching any football, and the other to say her ulcer can't take that kind of nail-biting tv viewing. And my Dad just had to add his dig that he was only 3 points off from correctly predicting the final score and winner of the game. Bah! Lastly, another Pat's fan uncle called to say that our Colts should not have done so much premature celebrating around the field before the game was actually over.

They are Ruthless! And heartless! But I hold no hard feelings.

I guess we'll just have to see you in the playoffs, cheaters...

Day 4 - Colts vs. Patriots game

I can not concentrate long enough to blog about anything right now. So I'll leave you with this, and will return later... enjoy the game.

Go Colts!

What are you doing on Sunday afternoon?

I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but there’s a pretty exciting NFL game happening this Sunday. I have butterflies in my stomach. I’m fairly sure that most of America has butterflies in their stomach about this game. Even if you’re not a sports fan, you’ve probably heard about it, and your tummy will be fluttering soon enough so don’t worry. How could you not know? You can’t turn on the TV news without hearing about it. I think it’s on just about every US city’s front page of their newspaper. I’m talking about the Indianapolis Colts vs. New England Patriots. Here. On our home turf. Sunday. Ugh! The sound of being punched in the stomach when I say “Ugh!” is a mixed emotion. First, excitement. Of course! It’s the anticipation of the countdown. Giddy with the thought our reigning 2006 Super Bowl Champs having an 8-0 record at the end of the game. Then, the sinking sensation of the butterflies dive bombing creeps up because we are playing our arch rival. Not only have we somehow made these two teams each other’s nemesis – but The Patriots are my former Home Team. And they are good. Good enough to have an already 8-0 record. They are still the Home Team of the rest of my family. It throws a wrench in our family cheering section. It does give us all a good topic to tease each other about though. But on Sunday, somebody has to lose.

On any other Sunday, I’m allowed without getting the evil-eye of my Indiana friends and family, to root for my former home team. My husband Tom even lovingly overlooks the tad of drool that I get when I watch Tom Brady for 60 minutes of game time (that equates to about 3 hours, but 60 minutes sounds less threatening don’t you think?). If Sandra Bullock were in pads and a helmet, I would return the favor by turning the other way for him. We’re fair like that. He should be flattered that the Other Man in my life is a “Tom” too. This is a face only a mother could love. And I... am a mother! But I digress…

Sunday, I will be wearing Blue. Colts Blue. I’m sure I can find a jersey in this house to wear. We have a few to choose from. Will I choose Marvin or Manning? Decisions, decisions! The hardest decision will be for our son Carter. He has a few jerseys, and it’s always a long thought process for him about who’s number he’s going to wear each Sunday. He meticulously lays them all out on the floor. Presses them softly to smooth the numbers, and arranges them in an order that only his little mind can wrap around. This Sunday, it will be even more difficult for him, because mixed up in his sea of Colts Blue, is the lone too-small-now navy & silver #12 Patriots jersey. He loves Brady. Carter’s favorite player changes every weekend, and so he may even choose his #12 to wear. But I don’t know if he’ll be allowed in the family room to watch the game if he is not in Colts Blue attire. So we will discourage him from choosing his Brady jersey on Sunday, and encourage him to choose from his #4, #87, #88, or #18. I will probably push heavily for my Other Other Man,
Adam Vinatieri’s jersey – because it’s a good compromise. He was once the long-time kicker for the NE Patriots, and has since been welcomed with open arms to our Indianapolis Colts team. He’s one of ‘us’ now. It’s the best of both worlds in terms of jersey decisions for Sunday. And our family harmony. Because their #4, is now our #4. Carter got to meet him and shake his hand a couple months ago at our town fall festival. He was standing in line behind us with his children waiting to ride the Sizzler. I noticed him immediately and did the old nonchalant hurried wide-eyed whisper to Tom, “psssst -Adam-Vinatieri-is-standing-right-HERE”. So he turned around and introduced himself and Carter got to meet him. He was dressed in some casual shorts, sandals, a polo-type shirt and wore his Boston Red Sox cap. (Not that I noticed or anything.) Carter told Adam that he has his #4 jersey, and Adam raised his eyebrows in surprise and said “You do? – wow, thanks!”. It was very fun and exciting, and Carter told everyone he knows about his chance meeting with Adam Vinatieri at the fair. So cute. Both of them.

Speaking of meeting players, Tom was lucky enough to be invited to a dinner and game-watching night with Peyton Manning, Bob Sanders, and Dwight Freeney in early October. Carter probably would have needed resuscitation if he was present. I’ll put some pictures below, depicting a day in the life of a Colts Fan around this house. Sunday will be difficult to watch. I can’t help but root for the Patriots when they play. But this time, I have to be faithful to my 13-year new Home Team. I will wear Blue. Colts Blue.

But, does anyone have a good recipe for Clam Chowdah? We will need to eat while the game is on, you know ….


Carter and Tom before a game....

Carter modeling our newly acquired kicker's jersey...

Here's a sample of how Carter decides on which jersey to wear on Sundays...

Some proof that there are two different color Blues that we do sport on the weekends...sadly, I could not locate a more recent photo of him in his now-too-small #12


And proof that his Colts-bleeding father still loves him even if he is cheering on the enemy!

***Edited to add this picture that my uncle reminded me of! The kids in their Patriots gear sent from the Heart of PatriotLand - care of John & Mary. His loving rebuttal posted here... John's Site

Lastly... Tom's evening with some Colts players...