Ha Ha....

Let it be said that, for the record before the rest of this blog comes rolling off my tongue pen, in general, I strive to avoid being obnoxious -- that is, at least in front of other people... what my dogs know about me, they'll never tell.

But, here I may make an exception.

On Sunday, January 18, 2015, for 57 minutes of regulation game time, the Seattle Seahawks orchestrated one of the most unexpected and discouraging strings of fumbles, interceptions, three-and-outs, and assorted other foibles that caused the steepest rise in the use of TUMs ever recorded in an American football game.  Dread filled the heart, nausea the gut, and defeat the mind of the collective 12th man, as never before, even in Seahawks history.    Some plays were so awful that even the eyes of Green Bay Packer fans must have filled with pity for the blue and chartreuse team roaming across Century Link Field in Seattle.

While I don't presume that any member of the Green Bay Packer football team was actually laughing at the Seahawks, I do have my suspicions.  These suspicions are especially strong for the young man, Mr. Clinton-Dix, who intercepted two of Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson's passes in the first half of the game, a half which at one point was so horrible that the Green Bay Packers had caught infinitely more of Russell Wilson's passes than Seahawks receivers.   Each time that an interception from Mr. Clinton-Dix was announced, I heard a subtle "Ha Ha" in the background.   My husband tried to tell me that "Ha Ha" was Mr. Clinton-Dix' first name, but I continued to believe, in my NFC championship game induced despair, that the sound I heard come from the sportscaster's mouth was instead the entire city of Green Bay, Wisconsin laughing at our poor struggling Seahawks.

Ha Ha.

As the game marched relentlessly on, I sank further into the couch, tempted to drink yet another beer, but too riveted to the unfolding trauma on the television to go to the refrigerator and get one.  The minutes of the game ticked away, and I kept hearing:

Ha Ha.

Finally, the last four minutes of the game came and went.  Overtime came and went.   As I watched this funny shaped brown thing with laces on it sail threw the air and land in Jermaine Kearse's hands (this time with no Mr. Clinton-Dix available to intercept), I no longer heard:

Ha Ha.

from the sportscaster.

Yet, a moment later, when the game was over and the television volume muted during a seemingly unending string of commercials, I heard it again:

Ha Ha.

Strange.
I looked at my husband, who was looking at me strangely (which is not at all uncommon).
I asked:  "Do you hear that?"

Ha Ha.

"What is that noise?  Where is it coming from?"

My husband's eyes rolled back into his head as he responded:
"My dear ...
that noise is coming out of your mouth"

Ha Ha.

The author of this blog wishes to acknowledge that she makes no assumptions whatsoever about the outcome of the upcoming SuperBowl, recognizing that the opposing team could quite possibly do a similar number on the Seahawks as was done on the Indianapolis Colts... only this time with properly inflated footballs.