Did you know I started out writing sports way back in the day in high school, covering basketball for the school newspaper? It was fairly easy since I was already one of the stat takers, you know, the people at the table keeping track of how many points, assists, fouls, and various other things that happen for your team.
I knew basketball pretty well, but my real love was football. I was actually Captain Stat sophomore through senior year, no cape or costume though, just a football jersey, which I wore while supervising the other stat takers on the sidelines, teaching them offense, defense, and special teams.
I got hit in the head with players’s shoulder pads on a regular basis and almost got pummeled as the play came my way out of bounds. My head was down recording the opponent’s pass to the left flat, so I had no idea what was coming. Fortunately, one of the players on the sidelines picked me up and moved me out of harms way.
This morning, I am basking in the glory that combines both of my loves ― football and literature ― which is very rare. Last night, the Baltimore Ravens beat the San Francisco 49ers in Super Bowl XLVII, 34-31.
For those of you who do not know, the Baltimore Ravens are named for the great Edgar Allan Poe who had made his home in the city. An NFL team with a literary mascot ― pretty cool, right?
The game had all of the drama football fans yearn for in the biggest game of the year. Two opposing coaches, who happen to be brothers, battled it out for bragging rights. The first half was all Baltimore. The second, mostly the 49ers. A freak power outage dimmed the stadium resulting in a bizarre thirty-four-minute delay. Would the teams be able to get back into the groove after such an obstacle? San Francisco sure did, but when it came right down to it, it was Baltimore’s night.
Tension. Intrigue. High emotions. All of the hallmarks of a great story.
And besides, I get to use the line I have been chomping at the bit to write since the playoffs began.
Quoth the Ravens to the 49ers, "Nevermore."