Red Letter Day

It is a red letter day. I’ll condense the reason why without the usual prolixity in the following paragraph:

A red-headed girl, one who I was insanely fond of, once challenged me to a cultural duel. Claiming one dimensionality as my fatal-flaw she gave the ultimatum that if I was to be the recipient of her affections, I needed to trade the world of sports for the world. Benevolently she agreed to allow me to keep one team in the blockbuster trade for music, art, cuisine, travel, dance, literature and, of course, her companionship. After burning my last time-out, consulting my inner offensive coordinator and calling the play, I relented, agreed and signaled my sincerity by trading my Mariners season tickets for the upcoming symphony season at Benaroya Hall. 

The team? 

University of Washington Husky Football.

That agreement was sealed in 1989, thirty years ago, and I haven’t regretted one minute of it. Not even a second of it. Like any Greek tragedy or a Shakespearean double-cross, the contract ended two years later, but the spirit of the deal remains to this day. There is simply too much to do, so many places to go, such a magical world of opportunity waiting in design, film, color, thought, taste, movement, prose, poetry and paint, that to squander all that for a non-participatory seat on the bench of a pay-per-view entertainment bundle, seems like wasting the preciousness of life and the meaning of time. 

So I picked one. Gave up all the rest. Walked away. 

And have never looked back. 

Today that one team took the field for the opener of the 2019 campaign. Having led the morning’s spin class and lifted with my Junior-to-be nephew I was set up and ready for the contest. 

We won handily. There was some good and some not-so-good. There is a long way to go. We had a couple of injuries to the kids that will play out over time, but an honest effort was offered by my lads. Huskies are back.

So am I. It was a purple and gold letter day.