Like many times before, after the gifts were opened and the left-overs were packaged, my son went home with some of his cousins, and my daughter planned a movie outing. But unlike times before, when an anticipated musical movie was dangled in front of me, I declined! And declined again. And refused to budge. How could I decline to see something as highly anticipated as "Dreamgirls"? How could I still shiver remembering listening to Jennifer Holliday belt "And I Tell You I'm Not Going" on a cassette recorder, and flatly refuse to go to see Effie White on the big screen?
And so I sat down in the company of a sheepdog and a poodle to watch the end of a lackluster Dallas thumpin', and the start of the "game with implications". The rain fell, the ball slipped, the sheepdog and poodle fell asleep.
Then Santa finished his round of regularly scheduled deliveries to late-risers all over the world, and had an extra present in his sack for those of us who have believed in the Jets ever since a man named Joe Willie preached the gospel to us. My son came home to join me, the game was tied, the clock was ticking down just slightly faster than December 25th was ending, and a kicker named Mike Nugent appeared before our eyes in all his high-def glory.
Doesn't it ALWAYS seem the Jets' hopes hinge on a kicker?
Isn't today a beautiful day?