I spent some time on Sunday tossing the football around in the backyard with my 9-year-old son. It was a great moment for father and son bonding. It was probably the third or fourth best game of the week. But before we get to that one, here are a few observations from the other games from the weekend.
1.) If I don’t like a team, there’s a 78.3 percent chance that the team they’re playing will run a fake punt at an inopportune time and not convert. Thanks for nothing, Steelers.
2.) Patrick Mahomes is Steph Curry in a Chiefs uniform. It’s just too bad for fans of that team that Steve Kerr doesn’t coach football.
3.). 70 points? 70! But look on the bright side, Houston fans. Your team only allowed 85 passing yards.
Now, on to the most important game of the week.
My son always wants me to throw the ball just over his head so that he can dive and catch it with one hand. He has a term for this kind of a catch. He calls it, “Odelling it.”
I can’t help it. Whenever my son says that he wants to “Odell it,” I picture him getting into a fight with a kicking net, missing the playoffs, and sitting out the second half of the season with an injury. I’d much rather my son, “Julio it.”
At one point, my son threw the ball to me with a peculiar question along with it. “Dad, do you think that there’s a quarterback in the NFL who I am better than?” This is the type of question that can greatly determine the future of your child. If you answer yes, he’ll likely grow up to support Marxism, protest his boss for only paying him $75 an hour, and listen to Barbra Streisand. If you answer no you could crush his spirit.
I said no.
I mean, come on. Streisand?!
I explained my answer by telling my son that even the worst quarterback in the NFL has spent decades perfecting his craft. I told him that every quarterback in the league is an elite athlete and is on his team because someone thinks that he can help them win. And then, just as my son threw me another rocket, I thought about everyone who has played quarterback for the New York Jets over the past twenty years.
It looks like someone’s getting Streisand for Christmas.
While I was going out for a pass, my son told me to go long. He did this by yelling out, “Hairy Mary!” Of course he meant Hail Mary. I’m not sure who Hairy Mary is but I’m almost certain that she attends Ohio State.
Finally, when the boy and I finished our backyard game, a group of executives from the NFL stopped by and informed us that we had just won the NFC East.
Until next time, Merry Christmas and happy footballing!