All I Want for Christmas is a Redskins Win
"It's weird, don't you think? The things we have year after year?" my aunt said as she scooped 9-layer dip onto her Frito. I smiled and watched as she took a bite and I reached for the crab dip. My mother sat next to me on the couch drinking wine. It was a commercial break.
I reached for my Diet Coke because my stomach has been in knots since my plane touched down at Reagan airport two days ago and I saw the city of Washington. This was not a holiday I was looking forward to. I've had more cokes and ginger ales this week than I had when I was diagnosed with your generic stomach flu in elementary school. The commercial break ended. Our eyes turned towards the TV.
The Redskins were up. Up, like, winning, and all I could hope for was a win, just one, please, I prayed over and over, I really need this. I looked at my aunt. She had just told me if I could come up with $2600 by March the season tickets were mine. And for the first time, well, in my life, I didn't want them. I thought, I can't come home for that. But, I told her, I don't want them out of the family. Never. She opened her mouth and started to sing, "All I want for Christmas is a Redskins win..." and I smiled.
I looked around the room. My brother and I yelled at the TV, the refs, at Gibbs telling him to challenge the play. My grandfather yelled at the TV - they need to be more aggressive, they wouldn't lose the time out. My aunts chanted and screamed, and of course added in the obligatory Riggins reference and baseball comment, "Alli I know you hate the Yankees, but if you could just find out where Derek Jeter lives you could wait for him outside his place and he would marry you." She never understands me when I reply, "I'd rather die."
I guess it wasn't until when my grandmother started to yell at the TV that my endless diet coke sipping stopped. Our lead dropped quickly, but something about hearing her voice raise and rattle off stats about how the Skins play well in domes and how they need to be passing to Cooley made me fill a bit with hope.
Terrified of where we come from, yes, many of us are. Freud would have a field day psycho-analyzing any family during the holidays, but there is nothing like watching your grandmother scream at the television, at a football game, on Christmas eve day. I think it's only then when you can really get it. This time of year the loss may really really hurt, but it's the love that keeps us coming back for more.
I reached for my Diet Coke because my stomach has been in knots since my plane touched down at Reagan airport two days ago and I saw the city of Washington. This was not a holiday I was looking forward to. I've had more cokes and ginger ales this week than I had when I was diagnosed with your generic stomach flu in elementary school. The commercial break ended. Our eyes turned towards the TV.
The Redskins were up. Up, like, winning, and all I could hope for was a win, just one, please, I prayed over and over, I really need this. I looked at my aunt. She had just told me if I could come up with $2600 by March the season tickets were mine. And for the first time, well, in my life, I didn't want them. I thought, I can't come home for that. But, I told her, I don't want them out of the family. Never. She opened her mouth and started to sing, "All I want for Christmas is a Redskins win..." and I smiled.
I looked around the room. My brother and I yelled at the TV, the refs, at Gibbs telling him to challenge the play. My grandfather yelled at the TV - they need to be more aggressive, they wouldn't lose the time out. My aunts chanted and screamed, and of course added in the obligatory Riggins reference and baseball comment, "Alli I know you hate the Yankees, but if you could just find out where Derek Jeter lives you could wait for him outside his place and he would marry you." She never understands me when I reply, "I'd rather die."
I guess it wasn't until when my grandmother started to yell at the TV that my endless diet coke sipping stopped. Our lead dropped quickly, but something about hearing her voice raise and rattle off stats about how the Skins play well in domes and how they need to be passing to Cooley made me fill a bit with hope.
Terrified of where we come from, yes, many of us are. Freud would have a field day psycho-analyzing any family during the holidays, but there is nothing like watching your grandmother scream at the television, at a football game, on Christmas eve day. I think it's only then when you can really get it. This time of year the loss may really really hurt, but it's the love that keeps us coming back for more.
posted by AllDeTime at 8:22 PM
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