We are not football fans. We are not baseball fans. We are not ball fans.
We are not a sports minded tribe.
We like buttons and gizmos and adapters and touchscreens and rechargables and wifi. We like books and magazines and G2 Pilots and molekines. We like cool gear bags and funky shoes, but we are not a sportsminded tribe.
We like roadmaps and GPS and cup holders big enough for Big Gulps. We like Southwest and Starbucks and the latest in Mac Books, but we are not a sports minded tribe.
We like eclectic cd's and candles and heavy laden dinner tables circled by good friends, weekends working the leaf blower and early mornings in the prayer room, but we are not a sports minded tribe.
So forgive us, Oh Ye Colts. Forgive us, Peyton Manning. Had we not lived in Tennessee, we would not know your name, and even that we now know it is a bit of a curiosity to us, because even though we know, we care not.
For we are not a sports minded tribe.
Disclaimer: Kelsey played olympic level softball for years. Well, maybe not olympic level, but I will say that when she would wing the ball in from her short stop position, you did not want to have to catch it...not because she'd throw wild, but because she'd drill the catcher against the backstop and leave their mitt smoking like a cheap Camel in the bowling alley parking lot. But alas, she married in to a tribe that neither threw nor caught with accuracy, and has raised boys who would rather calculate the vector at which the ball is likely to glance off the house than actually throw or catch it.