Alright, let me tell you about this whole Chicago Bears vs. Baltimore Ravens thing I went through. It wasn’t about watching the game, not really, though that was the plan. It turned into something else entirely.
The Big Plan
So, I remember this specific Bears-Ravens game was coming up. Don’t ask me the year, details get fuzzy. But I was actually pretty hyped. I’m originally from the Chicago area, so yeah, gotta root for the Bears, even when it hurts, you know? My buddy, Dave, he’s a Ravens guy. We always give each other a hard time.
The plan was simple:
- Get a ridiculous amount of unhealthy snacks.
- Maybe grill some burgers if the weather wasn’t typically awful.
- Have Dave come over.
- Yell at the TV for a few hours.
Standard stuff. I went out Saturday morning, got the chips, the dip, drinks, the whole nine yards. Felt pretty organized, actually. Got home, cleaned up the living room a bit. Ready to go for Sunday.
Where It Went Sideways
Sunday rolls around. Kick-off is, like, afternoon-ish. Around 10 AM, I head down to the basement to grab some extra folding chairs. And that’s when I see it. Water. Not a lot, but definitely enough to make you go “Oh, crap.”
Turns out, the ancient water heater decided that exact morning was the perfect time to start leaking. Not just dripping, mind you. It was a steady, determined little stream heading right for a box of old photos I stupidly left on the floor. Priorities, right? Forget the game, gotta save the embarrassing high school pictures.
So, there I am. No football. Just me, a leaking water heater, a shop vac, and a growing sense of doom about how much this is gonna cost. I called Dave, obviously. Had to cancel. He laughed, of course. Probably thought the Ravens already won.
The Actual “Game Day” Experience
My entire Sunday became this frantic mess. First, trying to stop the leak enough so I could think. Then, calling plumbers. You ever try getting a plumber on a Sunday morning without paying an arm and a leg? Good luck. Found one eventually, but they couldn’t come out ’til late afternoon. Figures.
So I spent the entire game time window, the time I’d blocked out for yelling at refs and eating junk food, babysitting a leaky tank, moving boxes, and soaking up water with old towels. It was the complete opposite of relaxing. I think I heard my neighbor cheering at one point, probably for some big play, and I just felt this wave of annoyance.
The plumber finally shows up way later. Nice enough guy. Took one look and basically said, “Yep, she’s dead.” Ended up costing a fortune to replace, naturally. By the time he left, it was dark, I was tired, greasy, and the furthest thing from my mind was football.
So, Who Won?
Funny thing is, I didn’t even check the score until the next day. Saw it online somewhere. Can’t even remember who won that particular game now. Doesn’t really matter. What I remember is the stupid water heater, the frantic calls, the mess. It’s weird how you plan for something simple, like watching a football game, and life just throws a wrench—or a leaky appliance—into the works. Kind of puts watching sports into perspective. It’s fun, sure, but most days, you’re just dealing with whatever unexpected thing pops up. That day, my opponent wasn’t the Ravens, it was plumbing.
