Living in Wisconsin, I have observed that the line between religion and football is thin. During my formative years, I was the lone Minnesota Vikings fan in a small Wisconsin town. Fortunately for me, the Vikings were quite good during the 1970s … although never quite good enough to win the Super Bowl. More importantly, the Green Bay Packers stunk during those years. After I joined the Church in the early 1980s, I stopped paying attention to professional football because I wanted to keep the Sabbath Day holy, and professional football does not have much to recommend it in that regard.
Since moving back to Wisconsin, I have again come into intimate contact with the enemy: Packer fans. They are all around me, and even though I profess complete ignorance of recent developments in professional football, I cannot escape them. Yesterday, at a wedding reception, I learned to my chagrin that the Packer and Vikings were battling each other for a playoff spot. When I was a boy, I used to pray about things like this, until I concluded that God did not hear the prayers of Viking fans. Tonight I found more evidence of that. After the rest of the family was safely in bed, I couldn’t resist taking a peek. Ugh! (Breathe slowly. Repeat after me, “I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care…”)
Thankfully, I am leaving for India on Thursday. Surely, by the time I return the Packers will have been eliminated from the playoffs, and we can all settle in for several months of cold and snow.