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I didn't hate them before I married Jack (didn't really have any feelings for them whatsoever before I married Jack, actually), but he's pretty much ruined football for me. The way the Cowboys perform on Sunday afternoon or Monday night affects Jack's attitude so deeply that I don't even want to be around him if they're not in the lead. With every fumble, turnover, and penalty, Jack gets grumpier and yells louder, and if, heaven forbid, they actually lose the game, then you can count on the fact that the rest of our day is pretty much shot. He's ticked and he doesn't care who knows it.
Now, I'll be honest, he's really cute when he gets all excited about a game. Just like when he was little, he still dresses up for his team, ready to cheer them on.
The Cowboys played tonight, and I learned how quickly Jack can actually get home after work if he really wants to (an hour before he usually gets home, in case you were wondering. Amazing what happens when you don't stick around to chat with the students after class!).
And the first thing Jack did when he got home? Change into his lucky Cowboys jersey, of course.
And so they played. And he yelled. And he apologized to a frightened Maggie for his yelling. And I was glad I got to go to bed after the Cowboys game instead of dealing with his potential grumpiness if they lost. And then they scored. And he cheered. And they won. And he looked like this:
And I decided that I might not hate the Cowboys so much after all.
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