The only reason she is saying no is because she doesn't understand. She's ignorant, and I can't blame her so much for that. She doesn't get it and I'm doing my best to educate her. But it's slow going and she is resisting any attempts to elevate her mind.
I'll keep trying. I have to because I can't turn my back. I can't because it is an original Super Bowl ticket.
I try to explain this to her. Superbowl XXXIV, she might remember this one. Titans VS. The Rams. Steve Mcnair and Eddie George in thier prime VS. The greatest show on Turf. In the end it came down to one yard. A pass over the middle by the Titans that came up a yard short. The reach that couldn't make it to the endzone. Millions of people holding thier breath and then all yelling at the moment they realize that the ball came up a yard short. The Rams win. People watching on TV thought it was an amazing game. It was even more amazing in person. I was there. And this is my ticket.
It's framed now. After the game people were trying to buy it for 20 bucks but I refused. I knew that I would never give it up, that it would be a treasure in my family and passed down for generations.
And all I want to do is hang it up in the bedroom. But Hossmom says no.
She says no because I'm not single, I'm not a bachelor. She says no because it doesn't go with our off white comforter. She says no because it clashes with the Parisian artwork we have in our bedroom. I say fuck the Eiffel Tower, it clashes with my Superbowl ticket. She says that I can put it in the unfinished basement. She says it's a worthless piece of crap. I shudder.
Besides, the Nolan Ryan plaque looks lonely and to small without the Superbowl ticket next to it. It doesn't take up that much wall space and looks unbalanced without the ticket right below it. The ticket somehow anchors the Nolan Ryan plaque.
But she is more against putting up the Nolan Ryan plaque than she is about the ticket. And I can't understand it.
This is Nolan Freaking Ryan, one of the best pitchers to ever play the game. The All Time leader in strike outs. Hall of Fame.
When Nolan Ryan pitched for the Texas Rangers, when I was a kid, we would go and see him on opening day. Those were some of the best games of any sporting event that I had ever gone to. It was back when they allowed fans to bring in their own coolers. We would be eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while watching Ryan do his warm up runs right past our seats. He was no more than 5 feet away from me.
One of the first things I did when I got out of college was to buy this plaque. It has an 8 x 10 shot of Nolan Ryan, his face is all bloody. In the game in question, he took a baseball to the face that was hit by Bo Jackson. He needed stitches later. But he didn't leave the game. He took a minute to compose himself and then went right back to work, with blood running down his chin. I can honestly say he was one of my boyhood heroes.
And do any of you remember when he beat the shit out of Robin Ventura. That's why you don't fuck with Texas, right there. Because if you do you are going to get into a headlock and some uppercuts to the face.
But the wife says no to the Ryan and the Ticket. No matter how much I tried to convince her. And it's only because she doesn't understand what they are. They are not just slips of paper and bad photograph. They are more than that. And maybe Nolan Ryans blood does clash with the cherry furniture in our bedroom. But it doesn't really matter because they are life lessons displayed in those frames. The ones that say you'll have a seat at the table if you just wait long enough. They say that sometimes you got to take one to the face and just keep on going.
Those things don't belong in the basement, they belong in a shrine.
So I am forced to do what any man would, given my position. As soon as she left the room I put them up anyway. She might take them down, she might not. If she does I'll have to get some industrial strength glue and stick them back up. This is about principles and if I don't stand up for them now then I'll be worshiping pictures of foreign city's every night I go to bed for the rest of my life.
I also put up my framed picture of Vince Lambardi. In for a penny, in for a pound. It's about 2 feet by 4 feet and has a copy of a speech he once made on what it take to be a winner. I think that he would be proud of me right now.