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Here on Super Bowl Sunday, I want to disclose something: I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of football.

To be a fan, I would have to describe myself as an “avid supporter” or an “enthusiastic admirer” of the game. A fan of something promotes and enjoys those particular activities. This does not describe my relationship with the game of football, which has its biggest moment on this day each year.

In high school, I did go to a couple of football games in 10th grade. I guess a few of the pep rallies sparked a little bit of school pride — enough that I wanted to at least make sure I wasn’t missing anything by staying home.

I went to one game with a friend and another with my brother. My dad took me to one. I enjoyed being there a little bit, mostly for the company I was with.

When I was dating my husband, he denied really liking football much. He said that it was often on in his home and he would watch it if it was on but he wouldn’t actively seek it out. I believed his story and added “doesn’t care one iota about football” to the pro’s list of why I loved this guy.

I found out later that while he was not a ravenous fan of the game, he did enjoy watching it from time to time as he kept up with his favorite teams. By the time his true feelings about the game became clear, it was too late. I was already head over heels in love.

We compromised by cutting the volume off when the game was on. My husband got to enjoy the games as much as he wanted to and I did not have to listen to the annoying running commentary about some big dudes running around a field chasing a funny-shaped ball.

The final piece of my husband’s denial of how much he enjoyed football came the moment our son, Christopher, began to take an interest in watching the game. All of a sudden, my husband had someone to talk football to right here in his own house who did not roll their eyes as the conversation turned to foreign words like fumble, touchdown and punt.

I am just glad that I am not out-numbered here in our household. My daughter gives generously her sympathetic support each time the two men of the house start getting into a conversation surrounding the game.

She sends me sympathetic glances whenever something happens on the TV screen that prompts the guys to turn up the volume so they can hear the announcer talk in earnest about the game.

Oh, I admit that as the Carolina Panthers have done well in past years — definitely not this year by far — I have enjoyed the excitement generated by our home state team doing well.
Hopefully any excitement I showed was never in any way misunderstood to be excitement for the actual game. I am a competitive person. I enjoy winning and knowing that the people around me are winning too.

This year, my son and I signed up for this fantasy football thing HGTV-Pro had on its website. We were under no illusions we were going to win anything. I just wanted to show him that I could predict just as good as he could, if not better, who would win games.

We also made our own little private league on the site where we officially were competing with one another as we tried guessing the games. Week after week, I did better than my son. At some point along the way, I explained to him that I had a theory on how I made my picks.

If I had any question as to who I should pick, I would consider if it snowed in their home city or not. Snow meant they were a more resilient team and would win more often than not.

Remarkably, I ended the season on top by a few hundred points. I, Linda Vestal, who knows and cares little about football, beat out a football fan in our two- person league. I only won bragging rights, but hey, sometimes that is enough.

Sometimes you just join in something because the people you love enjoy the activity.

I guess that describes my relationship with football. If no one here cared, I would not care either. Because they care, I give it a sideways glance here and there even though I really do not care that this big dude is chasing that odd-shaped ball around a field.

Just don’t call me a fan, OK?

Linda Vestal is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad.rr.com.