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Michelle Lovato: Wins, losses and finding religion

The Adventures of Garlic Man and Wedgie Woman

Posted: January 28, 2009 9:52 p.m.
Updated: January 29, 2009 4:55 a.m.
Michelle Lovato Michelle Lovato
Michelle Lovato

My husband promised to go to church if the Cardinals won the Super Bowl.

Go Cardinals!

The last time Mr. Religious made that promise the Rams were heading into the final seconds of Super Bowl XXXIIII, in January of 2000.

He may have uttered a few other words that included God but I wouldn’t know.

The kids and I were banned from the house as the big guy with the big mouth and the big fat emotional stake in the Rams jumped around on the couch, tackling pillows, sending popcorn for the Hail Mary long toss across the family room and chucking two-liter soda bottles between his legs.

I called once from a restaurant 25 miles from home where I had all three girls begging to chuck their chicken nuggets and head for home. Volcano Man erupted moments before as he witnessed a particularly disturbing incomplete pass and picked up the phone howling “catch the @#$*& ball!”

I loaded up the kids, flipped on the car radio and learned the third quarter expired.

Thank God. Another one bites the dust.

I figured the 30-minute drive home was plenty of time for Joe Athletic Yesterday to see the last 15-minute quarter so I headed in the direction of the matrimonial nest thinking that by the time I arrived.

Wrong. The girls and I walked in the door to find a side view of my Dearly Retarded in full-football crouch, coffee table knocked over, arms out to his side steadying himself for the onslaught of defensive linemen - who by the way were on the television - listening for the snap of the Rams’ football; hungry to devour the 16-16 tied score.

He snorted unceremoniously. That’s offensive.

Stucco fell from the ceiling after Kurt Warner — also on television - threw a Hail Mary lob the length of the field and into the hands of Isaac Bruce for a touchdown in the fourth quarter.  

Mr. Bottle Rocket sent me into spontaneous laughter as he did sort of a mini-hyper-run-in-place and jumped into the air in some wild delusion that he was catching the ball. I gotta say. 

For 275 pounds, he and his parts bounce well.

Never seen him move that fast before.

“Please God,” he begged. Mr. Suddenly Saved stared forth into the heavens.

I ducked and covered, peaking into the daylight anticipating a lightening bolt.  The kids ran.

“Oh, God, I’ll go to church if you let the Rams win,” he exclaimed.

Of course, you football fans know the outcome of Super Bowl XXXIIII. The Rams won at the final buzzer.

I hung out behind the formal living room couch until Crazy Legs stopped bounding around high-fiving the air, and the kids strung Lego pieces from down the hall.

The moment the Rams won the Super Bowl was the best moment of my husband’s life, he says.


But I have great compassion for my man. It’s hard to be a Rams fan.

I’ve learned that first hand as I’ve watched my formerly buff boy-man sink into weeks-long depression at the disheartening passage of one sickening season after another.

The day after the Rams won the Super Bowl, their coach retired from football. A few years later, Kurt Warner was traded away.  Jerome Bettis? Traded away.  Isaac Bruce? Wasted away.

And don’t even ask about this year’s Rams team. They won two of their 16 games this season.

Mr. I-Still-Can’t-Give-Up-On-Them said everyone good had gone away.

But reluctantly, after repetitive Sunday afternoon naps during unimaginably bad 2008 Ram games, my Dearly Got Smarter decided to pick a second team to support.

The Cardinals looked good. Did I mention the Arizona Cardinals have never, ever been to a Super Bowl? Or how about that I’ve heard they are something like 6,000-to-one underdogs?  

Good pick. But, like his beloved Rams, the Cardinals are looking down the long-side of a football thrown by none other than the incredibly gifted and simultaneously disappointing Kurt Warner.

Regardless, I can’t blame my underdog lover for his Rams-forever mentality.

Heck, maybe if they win, Mr. I-Found-The-Way-To-True-Happiness will go to church.

I doubt it. He never did last time.

Michelle Lovato is a Signal Staff Writer. The views expressed in her column are her own and not necessarily those of The Signal.


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