Cheese and Whine: Getting over the Leavy Superbowl as a Seahawk fan

Cheese and Whine: Getting over the Leavy Superbowl as a Seahawk fan

Like many Seattle Seahawk fans, I have forced myself into a good mood this week. With the feeling that someone just slapped my momma and stole my girlfriend resonating in my gut, I look for a reason to be happy. Tuff luck! My wife has no sympathy stating, “It’s just a game.” Further frustrating me is the fact that she is right. Darn her.
On the bright side, the sun has come out for four consecutive days. Celebrating this highly anticipated event, I go golfing with my father. We open our first of several beers to drink away our sorrows. I give him a few tips to avoid his infamous slice; he thanks me and smiles after hitting a strait drive. He feels better but what about me?
I look for a way to sooth my soul. I decide to crush the ball. Thinking of every questionable, bad, and what-were-they-thinking call during the Superbowl I pull out my Titleist 983K driver. Put a little extra umph into it, I feel my pain drift away.
“That has a chance,” inserts my dad.
“What?”
“I think it’s on,” he says referring to the green, a mere 380 yards away. We watch in disbelief as the ball looks to be reaching the green. At that distance, there is no way of knowing for sure it is on, or if it just seems that way.
As we jump in the cart he states, “That might be the longest shot I have ever seen.”
It was 20 yards short, but it was the last time that day I thought about the Hawks, the Refs, or the phantom holding call on Sean Locklear.