So, here’s the thing—I like football. I mean, I really like it. College, pro, whatever.
(I’m partial to the Carolina Panthers and the New Orleans Saints.)
I’m pretty sure it goes back to my childhood when my family lived in Luling, Louisiana, a small town just outside of New Orleans. My dad would manage to get tickets to see the Saints play at Tulane Stadium on a Sunday afternoon (yes, we would slip out of church services a few minutes early) and he would take my sister and me with him, giving my mom a much-needed break.
There, in the upper section, Dad would cheer/moan/groan as Archie Manning did his best to carry his teammates to victory (um…didn’t usually happen). And it was there that a ten-year-old girl fell in love with the game.