Julie Ann Vera

I'm not the biggest sports fan in the world, but there's just something about football.

Maybe it's that I grew up with two rabid Cowboys fans, a dad and brother who thought Tom Landry was a demigod and Roger Staubach walked on water.

My dad took us to our first NFL game in the early '80s; it was in Dallas, and they were facing the Eagles. A fantastic game, I'm sure, but I was more interested in using my dad's binoculars to watch people on the other side of the stadium than watch the field. Hey, it took me awhile to develop an appreciation for the game.

Even in the years when I had no idea what was going on, every fall and into the new year, I could count on Howard Cosell (and now, John Madden, of course) in the background at my house. The Monday Night Football jingle is part of the soundtrack of my life. Even if you think you don't know it, trust me, you do: TA-ta-ta-ta! TA-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta! Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-TA!

It's become a comfort to have a football game, any game, on the TV. To pause while doing housework to watch a great play; to wring my hands nervously when a player goes down and doesn't immediately get up. I vividly remember watching Joe Theisman of the Redskins get his leg crunched in two by Lawrence Taylor of the Giants.

Talk about unforgettable.

As my apprecition grew, I considered trying out for the football team in junior high, when girls were finally allowed to play in Texas. My mother had a cow. Why can't you be a cheerleader? she asked. Well, because you can't hit people as a cheerleader, that's why.

Nowadays, I enjoy debating play-action passes and the pros and cons of shotgun formation with my former football player and Steelers fan husband. After almost 10 years, my family's grudgingly accepted he will never back the 'Boys.

But that's the thing about football. If you're a fan, you're in the family.

Julie Ann Vera | 210SA