Many years ago, I was born in a small town called Washington, D.C. During those years, I was quite the Foreskin fan, seeing the team play in RFK Stadium on many occasions.
Over the last couple of decades, however, I lost touch with football altogether. The chaotic demands of life coupled with a deep-seated cynicism toward corporate sports meant that nearly 20 years would elapse before I would darken the doorstep of another NFL Stadium.
Yesterday, that doorstep went dim.
A couple of friends offered me tickets to the Seahawks game, and who was our home team playing?
That’s right … the venerable Foreskins.
What were the chances?
A million to one?
A billion to one?
Two hundred thirty five trillion to one?
What’s this … uh … 1 in 31?
Hey, that’s still a pretty big longshot.
Of course, as a Seattleite, I was more or less required by law to boo the hell out of the Foreskins, even though I did have some emotional attachment to them. Sure, we had history, but welcome to the here and now.
Alas, the skins got the last laugh as they rolled over the hapless Seahawks 23-17. Just when it looked like Seattle had the thing won, it all went to hell in short order. A dropped pass here, a quarterback sack there, and before you knew it, it was all over but the crying.
Despite the loss, I had a great time at the game. Whether it’s music, sports, or record-breaking zombie parades, Seattle has the best crowds in the world. Bar none.
Now if you will excuse me, I have a bet to pay off.
Hail to the Foreskins.
Oh, and hail to Trent and Val for the most excellent seats.