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A Super Bowl in Perspective

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My Super Bowl Sunday started rather typically but it ended in an emotional state far away from what I ever could have imagined. Somewhere along the way I was reminded that the game isn’t as important as we all think it is. That do or die isn’t the same as life and death.

Of course the first part of my day was nothing so weighty, rather it was a blueprint for the standard football enthusiast. Pre-game began in the wee hours of the morning reading up on critical match ups and investigating obscure angles of the impending showdown. It continued at a friends’ house, devouring salty snacks and imbibing spirits while we plotted a series of prop bets to make the year’s biggest spectacle even more interesting.

Along the way I was upholding my duties as Twitterer-in-chief of Touchdown L.A., interacting with readers and drumming up questions to keep our audience engaged.

The first half unfolded as a choppy but competitive exhibition. The Patriots had numerous uncharacteristic errors, including an early safety and a 12-men on the field penalty, yet they still found a way to get the lead.

Around the time the first half came to a close I received a phone call. The voice on the other end was familiar, but the tone was embedded with a slight quaver that immediately gave me pause.  It was mom.

“Brian, I’m at the urgent care center…” I listened as she described the situation. I don’t remember what she said word for word but the key points still resonate in my mind, the way piano notes stretch out over time in a silent room: blood pressure, antibiotics, infection, ambulance, emergency room, call your brother… meet me there.

Suddenly the script of my day had been completely flipped. I hardly said a goodbye, just collected my belongings and headed out the door.

As I got into the car and began to drive it was hard not to let the worst of my fears take hold. I wondered if she might be having a heart attack or a stroke. I remembered seeing my dad lay comatose in a hospital bed more than twenty years ago.  I speculated on what life would be like if neither of my parents were alive.

Granted, these were not the things I wanted to dwell on but what recourse did I have? I am, after all, only human.

The only thing I could do, that I could control, was the needle on the speedometer. The more I thought the heavier my foot became, sinking into the gas pedal like a stone into a pool of wet cement. Despite the fact that I was twice as far away from the hospital as mom, I still beat the ambulance there.

Next Page: Tragedy and Perspective

A Super Bowl in Perspective is a post from: Touchdown LA


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