Seattle, WA
12:21 PM
Last night, as I stared at the TV in disbelief at what had just happened in the Dallas – Seattle playoff game, I was transported back to a boy, when Joe Montana threw a game ending, season ending, NFC Championship winning touchdown to Dwight Clark. As soon as Everson Walls’ outstretched hand was not enough and that game was over, I ran upstairs to my room, shut the door, and balled my eyes out. Last night, at a sports bar with a fellow Cowboy fan who is as die hard as me, there was silence. Dallas had driven down for the winning score. A replay caused a fourth and one. There was no choice to kick. A 19 yarder. Piece of cake. Game over. I swigged from my glass, ready to erupt in joy. The snap is good, the hold is there… oh crap! The ball is on the ground. Romo is running around left end. What the hell is happening? Why would they fake it? There was silence.
It was not a fake. It was a botched play. In all the games this year, Romo was the holder on kicks. There was never a missed hold. Was the ball slick? Did he choke? I don’t know what the heck happened. I’m still sick about. I’m supposed to go to watch the Giants-Eagles game, but I ain’t going anywhere. I’m in mourning, letting a game ruin my happiness like I used to as a kid. The only difference is now I have other things to worry about besides a sports team. But it still stings. I can’t imagine how the team and players must feel. Time for more football. Gotta love the playoffs.