Shamokin PA
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Seeing Eagles fly safer than doing snow thrower slide


Unlike the hero in the play “Damn Yankees,” I didn’t have to make a deal with the devil to see the Philadelphia Eagles finally win the Super Bowl over the favored New England Patriots.

As a matter of fact, I did something that lacked both wisdom and common sense — I followed my own advice from last week’s column.

I did a bit of praying that the Eagles would do their best and I then did my best to ignore the fact that over 100 million people would be watching the game and I wouldn’t.

This did involve both risk and sacrifice. I would not be able to discuss the funniest commercials with my co-workers the following work day.

On the plus side, I wouldn’t have to waste my time trying to figure out just what in the heck some of those commercials were even selling.

Another advantage to my policy of not watching even a moment of the Super Bowl was that I did not have to sit through a pregame ceremony that lasts longer than some people’s marriage.

Avoiding the halftime show was an even bigger bonus. I suspect that I could have probably driven to the stadium in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and returned home in the time it took for the mid-game entertainment.

The weather provided me with an opportunity to avoid thinking about how the Eagles would do and increasing the chance that a 63-year-old guy could singlehandedly jinx their chances in the big game.

The snow that steadily fell throughout the day provided me with hours of distraction to help keep my mind off the upcoming game.

Most of that time was spent going to the nearest window, looking out and confirming the obvious: “Yeah. It’s still snowing.”

It is a testimony to my wife JoAnn’s patience that she was able to put up with several hours of this sort of thing before she suggested that I go outside and move some of that white stuff around.

I don’t think she wanted our driveway shoveled as much as she wanted me outside and out of earshot.

As it turned out, I didn’t manage to avoid the pregame excitement as much as I thought I would.

The main area I have to clear of snow is a driveway that is two-car-widths wide about 30 feet down a small slope. It’s about as exciting to clear as it is to hear every 3 minutes your spouse saying “Yeah. It’s still snowing.”

A previous storm that left a glaze of ice on the driveway made using a snow thrower on 4 or 5 inches of the white stuff more like a thrill ride than I would have preferred.

I stopped about halfway down the hill, but the snow thrower did not stop as it slid on the ice. I looked like an old guy being towed by a snow thrower.

My original intent was to pray for the success of the Eagles, but I quickly switched to praying that I wouldn’t have to explain how I got hurt to an emergency room staff.

Once I got the driveway cleared enough to get one car out so we could visit JoAnn’s Mom, we did a bit more praying as the snow turn to sleet and then rain, which changed the snow on the roads from slush to ice.

We made it home safely and we were probably asleep before the game — or the halftime show — was over.

I managed to avoid hearing who had won Super Bowl LII until Monday morning when the priest came out and said, “Go Eagles!” before he began the Mass.

As I spent the rest of the morning watching highlights of the big victory, I came to a conclusion.

The next time the Eagles play for the title, I’m going to watch the game. It’s a lot safer than being pulled downhill on ice by a snow thrower.