When I got them: Once a year for the past two years. But the journey started long before that . . .
How they came into my possession: I won them. Ripped them from the hands of competitors over the course of two long football seasons. I could go into it more than that, could tell you the extended “how” including picking up a guy named Tom Brady (YOU MAY HAVE HEARD FO HIM) or a no-name workhorse receiver known as Hines Ward (SUPERBOWL MVP, HMM?). But I’ll just leave it at “I won them.” [more solemnly] “I won them.”
Why I like them: For so many reasons, not the least of which being that drafting Ladanian Tomlinson his rookie year in the 12th round of my keeper league may prove to be one of my life’s greatest accomplishments. Long after I die, I want my grandchildren, and everyone else’s grandchildren, to know what I accomplished – how I sat in front of my computer pouring over football players’ stats longer and harder than any man with a job and a girlfriend should.
Why she hates them: I’m sure there’s a list of about 75 reasons, but I’ll take the top 3:
1. They are a constant reminder of how every October I become a worse boyfriend, one prone to telephone conversations at work such as
TG: “Hey how are you?”
Me: (frantic) “I can’t talk, I’m really busy.”
TG: “You’re reading football stories, aren’t you.”
2. They are ugly. (I don’t think it’s real wood.)
3. There’s no telling how many plaques I may win over the course of my lifetime (40?). If I’m allowed to display these two, where does it end? (Hint: It ends with our child having its crib in “the trophy room.”)
Your thoughts: THANKS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT GUYS, IT'S HEARTWARMING. REALLY.