The Funniest Thing That Ever Happened
I was looking through Chicago Bears stuff on eBay. I am obsessed with the Chicago Bears. I went to a Chicago Bears game. I have a Chicago Bears tattoo. If I ever had another kid, their name would be Chicago Bears. This reminded me of a hilarious story... I will share.
I have been a Bears fan since 1978. This is nothing compared to my mother. She has been a Bears fan since around 1965. The REAL throw-back days. She can remember the exact play when Gale Sayers got hurt. Walter Payton is one of her heroes. My mother loved Walter Payton as much as his own children did, I am sure. And, I had the horrifying job of notifying her that the great running back, Walter Payton, had succumbed to the liver disease that had been ravishing him. That was the worst phone call I had to make. You get the point.
The funny story comes from a scene at my mom and dad's house. Seated around the living room are me, my mother, my father, my sister, my sister's boyfriend-du-jour, John, and my brother. We are talking about sports in general. Here is how it went.
The talk has centered around baseball. The Atlanta Braves (My favorite baseball team. Well, really the only baseball team I like. I don't have a Braves tattoo, but I did see two games.) are in the playoffs. They have the best record in the major leagues.
Angie (me): I can't believe how good the Braves are doing this year. They have the best record in baseball, you know. Chipper is a maniac.
Amy (my sister): They are doing really good. I like them.
John (sister's boyfriend): The Braves are worthless.
All of us stare at him. I make an odd sound, like a derisive laugh.
Angie: They're doing pretty good for a worthless team. I would say first place in the entire league isn't exactly worthless.
Amy: Yeah.
John: Well, you know what I mean.
Angie and Bob (my brother): No, we don't actually.
Dad and I give each other looks. Where in the hell did Amy get this one?
Linda (My mom. The Great Bears Lover and Walter Payton Defender): I don't even really like baseball. Except for college. I can't wait until football season!
General cheers from around the room. We are a football lovin' family.
Angie: I wonder if the Bears are going to win more than three games this year. (It was a lean few years).
Linda: Probably not.
Clyde (my dad): They will probably beat the Packers.
Amy: Anyone can beat the Packers.
General consensus around the room.
Linda: Okay, I'm not going to pretend like I remember exactly what she said here, but it definitely had something to do with Walter Payton. What happened afterwards was so horrifyingly hilarious that most of what happened directly prior to this point is pretty much gone.
John: Walter Payton is worthless.
Complete.
Total.
Dead.
Silence.
I hear a sharp intake of breath, and realize it's me. I put my chin to my chest and just wait for it. I don't want to even LOOK at my mother, because, well, I think I would turn to stone if I placed my vision directly on her. My sister's shoulders sag. My dad snaps his head around so fast, I'm surprised he survived. My brother got up and left.
I look at my mom, and it's as if all animation has gone from her. She went from a three-dimensional character to a totally flat poster board, devoid of all emotion except the raw absolute hate she was radiating out of her very cardboard pores. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, to be honest. I figured this was John's last moments on earth, so I kind of wanted to look at him one last time, but instead I kept looking at mom. Was that just smoke I saw coming off her head?
Linda: What did you just say?
John: I said, "Walter Payton is worthless."
He just didn't get it. He wasn't trying to be a smart ass, he just didn't understand the gravity of the situation. He really thought mom didn't hear his expert football analysis.
Me: I think what John meant was....(I am at a loss for words. I don't like this guy at all.)
Me again: I think what John meant was...Walter Payton is worthless... I let that hang in the air and quickly whip my head towards my mom.
For the first time in maybe her entire life, my mother was speechless for a moment. She just sat there staring her death rays at John, and I figured if he weren't so oblivious, he might get a clue and jump out the nearest window before mom actually got off the couch to slay him.
Clyde: Oh God. Here it comes.
Linda: (In a deadly, level voice) Did. You. Know. That. worthless. Walter. Payton. Holds. The. All. Time. Rushing. Yards. In. The. N.FL.?
This statement was just dripping with venom. She went on to extol the virtues of Walter Payton, but I honestly don't remember what she said. I do remember chiming in and saying, "Soooooooo...do ya STILL think he's worthless?"
John had the sense and presence of mind to say:
John: Well, I didn't mean WORTHLESS. I just meant....(he thankfully trailed off again.)
John: I just meant, well, I LIKE Walter Payton and everything, but...Well, I mean...
He was finally getting it.
Angie: John, just shut up before she buries you in the backyard. Alive.
That was the end of that story. We still tell it around the fireplace once in a while. It's that good. I know it's one of those "you have to be there' or "you have to really love the Chicago Bears" stories, but I have NEVER and I mean NEVER in my life seen my mom run through so many emotions in my life, all with the undercurrent of "how shall I actually kill this kid" running through it.
I'd like to say the story of John had a happy ending, but he and my sister broke up shortly after that. One night, in front of my mom and dad's house, my sister accidentally shut John's hand in the car door. He went to the emergency room, and the doctors found a fairly large tumor buried in the flesh of his hand. They said that the accidental car door slamming probably saved him. My dad said if my mom would have gotten her way, they might have found a brain tumor because she would have slammed his head in the door, all the while quoting Walter Payton stats. I don't really know what happened to John after that. I'm guessing he'll never know how lucky he is that my mom didn't get off the couch.
I have been a Bears fan since 1978. This is nothing compared to my mother. She has been a Bears fan since around 1965. The REAL throw-back days. She can remember the exact play when Gale Sayers got hurt. Walter Payton is one of her heroes. My mother loved Walter Payton as much as his own children did, I am sure. And, I had the horrifying job of notifying her that the great running back, Walter Payton, had succumbed to the liver disease that had been ravishing him. That was the worst phone call I had to make. You get the point.
The funny story comes from a scene at my mom and dad's house. Seated around the living room are me, my mother, my father, my sister, my sister's boyfriend-du-jour, John, and my brother. We are talking about sports in general. Here is how it went.
The talk has centered around baseball. The Atlanta Braves (My favorite baseball team. Well, really the only baseball team I like. I don't have a Braves tattoo, but I did see two games.) are in the playoffs. They have the best record in the major leagues.
Angie (me): I can't believe how good the Braves are doing this year. They have the best record in baseball, you know. Chipper is a maniac.
Amy (my sister): They are doing really good. I like them.
John (sister's boyfriend): The Braves are worthless.
All of us stare at him. I make an odd sound, like a derisive laugh.
Angie: They're doing pretty good for a worthless team. I would say first place in the entire league isn't exactly worthless.
Amy: Yeah.
John: Well, you know what I mean.
Angie and Bob (my brother): No, we don't actually.
Dad and I give each other looks. Where in the hell did Amy get this one?
Linda (My mom. The Great Bears Lover and Walter Payton Defender): I don't even really like baseball. Except for college. I can't wait until football season!
General cheers from around the room. We are a football lovin' family.
Angie: I wonder if the Bears are going to win more than three games this year. (It was a lean few years).
Linda: Probably not.
Clyde (my dad): They will probably beat the Packers.
Amy: Anyone can beat the Packers.
General consensus around the room.
Linda: Okay, I'm not going to pretend like I remember exactly what she said here, but it definitely had something to do with Walter Payton. What happened afterwards was so horrifyingly hilarious that most of what happened directly prior to this point is pretty much gone.
John: Walter Payton is worthless.
Complete.
Total.
Dead.
Silence.
I hear a sharp intake of breath, and realize it's me. I put my chin to my chest and just wait for it. I don't want to even LOOK at my mother, because, well, I think I would turn to stone if I placed my vision directly on her. My sister's shoulders sag. My dad snaps his head around so fast, I'm surprised he survived. My brother got up and left.
I look at my mom, and it's as if all animation has gone from her. She went from a three-dimensional character to a totally flat poster board, devoid of all emotion except the raw absolute hate she was radiating out of her very cardboard pores. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, to be honest. I figured this was John's last moments on earth, so I kind of wanted to look at him one last time, but instead I kept looking at mom. Was that just smoke I saw coming off her head?
Linda: What did you just say?
John: I said, "Walter Payton is worthless."
He just didn't get it. He wasn't trying to be a smart ass, he just didn't understand the gravity of the situation. He really thought mom didn't hear his expert football analysis.
Me: I think what John meant was....(I am at a loss for words. I don't like this guy at all.)
Me again: I think what John meant was...Walter Payton is worthless... I let that hang in the air and quickly whip my head towards my mom.
For the first time in maybe her entire life, my mother was speechless for a moment. She just sat there staring her death rays at John, and I figured if he weren't so oblivious, he might get a clue and jump out the nearest window before mom actually got off the couch to slay him.
Clyde: Oh God. Here it comes.
Linda: (In a deadly, level voice) Did. You. Know. That. worthless. Walter. Payton. Holds. The. All. Time. Rushing. Yards. In. The. N.FL.?
This statement was just dripping with venom. She went on to extol the virtues of Walter Payton, but I honestly don't remember what she said. I do remember chiming in and saying, "Soooooooo...do ya STILL think he's worthless?"
John had the sense and presence of mind to say:
John: Well, I didn't mean WORTHLESS. I just meant....(he thankfully trailed off again.)
John: I just meant, well, I LIKE Walter Payton and everything, but...Well, I mean...
He was finally getting it.
Angie: John, just shut up before she buries you in the backyard. Alive.
That was the end of that story. We still tell it around the fireplace once in a while. It's that good. I know it's one of those "you have to be there' or "you have to really love the Chicago Bears" stories, but I have NEVER and I mean NEVER in my life seen my mom run through so many emotions in my life, all with the undercurrent of "how shall I actually kill this kid" running through it.
I'd like to say the story of John had a happy ending, but he and my sister broke up shortly after that. One night, in front of my mom and dad's house, my sister accidentally shut John's hand in the car door. He went to the emergency room, and the doctors found a fairly large tumor buried in the flesh of his hand. They said that the accidental car door slamming probably saved him. My dad said if my mom would have gotten her way, they might have found a brain tumor because she would have slammed his head in the door, all the while quoting Walter Payton stats. I don't really know what happened to John after that. I'm guessing he'll never know how lucky he is that my mom didn't get off the couch.
posted by Nebraska Angie @ 7:40 PM
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