Chris Kristo put on his lucky jersey, lucky socks and lucky underwear. He paused and looked at “game-day checklist.” Check. Check. Check. Then he went out to the garage and grabbed a six pack of lucky beers. He also plucked a lucky Slim Jim out of the kitchen and popped some lucky popcorn. A lucky rabbit’s foot (not lucky for the rabbit) hung from his belt loop. He scanned the backyard: No black cats.
He was set.
The big game was on today. And Chris was going to do everything he could to make sure his team won.
Chris Kristo was a superstitious man. He was leaving nothing to chance. And he felt really lucky today.
He plopped in his lucky recliner grabbed the remote. Some singer warbled through the National Anthem and the players lined up for kickoff. His wife and children had left the house (Chris had a habit of using R-rated language around his G-rated children). Even the dog went into the next room.
Game on.
Psst thump. The first beer was opened as the kicked ball sailed through the air.
From Chris Kristo’s command recliner, he knew was in charge of his team’s destiny. “RUN RUN RUN, CUT LEFT!”
And the young running back ran ran ran and then cut left.
Chris Kristo looked at his lucky beer.
“THROW THROW, YOU HAVE A RECEIVER #$%# WIDE OPEN!”
The quarterback suddenly looked across field and threw to the wide-open receiver that Chris was looking at.
Chris looked at his lucky beer again.
“RUN-OPTION AND THROW INTO THE ENDZONE.”
His team’s quarterback did just that. TOUCHDOWN! Chris did his little superstitious victory dance.
Chris suddenly realized he had control of the game.
He popped another beer and took a long swig. His team kicked off. “GET HIM GET HIM GET HIM!”
All 11 players converged on the poor kid who caught the ball and crushed him.
Chris finished his lucky beer and got another one. This was going to be fun. Never had a fan felt more empowered.
“IT’S GOING TO BE A DOUBLE REVERSE!”
Like he was controlled from afar, the defensive end read it perfectly and hit the back for a ten-yard loss. Chris yelled at the end, “BLOCK THAT PUNT.”
The end did just that and scooped up the ball and ran for a touchdown.
Chris did another superstitious victory dance. And then got another beer.
By halftime, Chris was pretty close to smashed. Empty bottles littered the ground. The popcorn was spilled in the chair and Chris was still calling plays.
“THWHOA ACROST ZE MIDDLE!”
The quarterback made a terrible throw right between two defenders, one of which intercepted the ball and ran it back for a touchdown.
Chris said words that would make a Jersey dockworker blush.
By the third quarter, the other team had pulled ahead. Chris, drunk and angry, continued to make bad football decisions. Decisions that were costing his team the big game.
“MAYBE I NEED TO TURN THE CHANNEL.”
Because, of course, one fan can control the outcome of a game played by 22 kids.
Chris grabbed the remote and changed it to the Weather Channel. He watched the forecaster and screamed “RAIN, ##$#, RAIN!”
A clap of thunder announced a downpour.
Chris looked at his remote control and turned it to CNBC. “DOUBLE MY PORTFOLIO!”
And on that day, a man with lucky jersey, lucky socks and lucky underwear got really lucky.