I watched a basketball game last night! Seriously. I heard that the Bulls were up against the Miami Heat in the playoffs and thought to myself, "I suppose I could watch that." The last time I watched a basketball game was sometime in the late 90's when Michael played.
It's funny how when I said, "Michael," you knew I was referring to Michael Jordan. Can you imagine having that type of notoriety? Or if I was in Chicago right now and said aloud, "I sure do miss Walter," you can bet money there would be a handful of overweight, moustachioed men nodding their heads in agreement. Likewise, everyone knows who The Coach is. These men are important in Chicago folklore and I somehow have to figure out a way to convey these important historical figures to my son. Unfortunately, a big picture of Mike Ditka on the wall might run the risk of giving my boy nightmares. "Eat your peas or I'm gonna tell Coach!"
Sadly, the boy ain't gonna know what real pizza tastes like either. But I have to remember not to make such a big deal about it, otherwise he'll think the land where Father came from is nothing but obese Italians and Polish guys jawin' about 1985 and "If they can make the river green on St. Patty's Day why don't they dye it blue the rest of the days?"