And then there was...Sara

(Disclaimer: I've never blogged before. In fact, I had never even read a blog until Mamanash (shameless re-plug) was born. Consider this my "Hail Mary" of blogging.)

It's ironic, Jenny's story and mine. Except we weren't an NFL household. We were strictly Notre Dame, and Notre Dame only. You didn't dare watch another game, unless it was to see what the Irish were up against as the season progressed (not to worry, though, we didn't just have Lou...we had-have-Touchdown Jesus). The Morans had onion dip. The Lallys had onion soup. They watched football on Sunday after church. We watched it on Saturday before 5 o'clock mass. Anyway, on with the story...

Michael and I met during football season. If you know Mike at all, then you know it's a damn good thing we didn't meet during baseball season, or we wouldn't be married today. We quickly discovered our mutual love for college football. We both loved the Irish, and since he's a Badger, I quickly became a fan of Bucky. It was OK, after all, because the Badgers are Big 10, and the Irish have a fear of commitment (which, in this case, is a good thing). I once asked Mike if I were a Sox fan, would he have dated me. I don't think I finished my sentence before he replied "no way." I believe the same to be true if I were a Buckeye, a Wolverine, or even a Wildcat. The term "double header" took on a new meaning-one that I could not only tolerate, but I wlcomed with open arms, and a red refillable plastic mug.

Much like Jenny's story, I met many of Michael's family members at one of Timmy's football games. The last game of his college career, in fact. And I was terrified! I'm not exactly your team gear-and gymshoe-sporting kind of fan. If any of you know me at all, you know that's just not my style. I kept a shoe store open the night before we drove to Whitewater, WI an hour past closing in search of a "sensible boot with a heel" (as not to be judged for dressing up for a football game). It's true, and it exists. So we arrive in Whitewater, and Maura, Molly, Tim Sr. and Brian stare as we approach. Brian can attest; I was pretty much mute the entire game. Nerves don't even describe what I was feeling with any justice. That is, until after the game at Salvo's Bar, with my very first cheese curd ever in hand, when Tim Sr.'s blackberry rang. His ringtone was the Notre Dame Fight Song. Cue the feeling of calm.

So here we are, months after Jenny's brilliant idea. I won't pretend to know half as much as she does, but I'll try to hold my own. Don't count on me getting too technical. And don't count on sensible shoes. This is, after all, Helmets and Heels.