I stepped out. Way out. This wouldn’t have been a big deal for 98.7% of the American population, but it was for me. And it wasn’t even about anything remotely spiritual.
It was about college football (though several would argue for a certain spirituality in the sport).
Last night, my beloved Florida Gators played their in-state rivals, the Miami Hurricanes. The ‘Canes had beaten the Gators six straight times, but the two teams are at two different levels right now. The Gators: national title contenders. The ‘Canes: not so much.
The game was expected to be a Florida win, but I needed to see the sweet 3 hours of payback. One problem though: we don’t have a TV.
Walking back home in the rain (7:00 pm), I noticed a bar that had TVs with college football playing. I saw some some guys in Gator attire. A light bulb lit up in my head.
With CM’s blessing, I walked into the bar, offered a weak “hi” to the 300-lb bouncer, and sat at a small table in front of a big-screen TV with the game. The server came, and I ordered a Coke. She said “OK” a little disappointed and walked off. Mr. Big Shot here also splurged on a side of fries, too. Needless to say, I got very little attention from the server the rest of the night.
I felt weird taking up a whole table as the bar filled up and got rowdier. But I was watching me some Gators, and I wasn’t giving up that table! I played with my cell phone, acting like I was texting friends, so people would think that I was just waiting for someone to arrive. I told myself that it didn’t matter — that people were only into their business. I was pretty unnoticeable. I didn’t mind, but it was a little sad.
But someone noticed. As the group from a nearby table left, a girl walked up and asked if I was OK. I was staring off into nowhere the whole night. I explained that I was just into watching my team play. We talked about my little NYC adventure with my wife and son. Then to my surprise — after talking with her boyfriend for a second, she asked me if I wanted to go out with them. Maybe to other bars or clubs on the Upper East Side.
I smiled appreciatively, but declined. She pressed further, but I was intent on returning to the Cool Fam at a decent time. She graciously accepted and wished me luck. Random strangers asking me to hang out with them. [+5 cool points] I won’t deny that I smiled to myself on the way home.
Again, going to a bar to watch a game by yourself isn’t a big deal for most, but that’s way outside of my comfort zone. And it gave me a good reason to sing the ‘Cheers’ theme song to CM as I told her this story.
If I start stepping out like this for God, not just the Gators, I think I’d have much cooler blog posts than this one. We’re getting there, one step away from the comfort zone at a time.
Hey – sometimes the end zone is WAY worth stepping out of your comfort zone. For example: standing for 4 hours in the sweaty, sometimes rainy, often not-sober personal space of 85,000 screaming fans – not comfortable. But watching your team camp out in the opponent’s end zone? Well worth it.
Ooh, I felt your uncomfortable pain. The whole texting idea was brilliant! You get way more than just 5 cool points. Wish I could think to talk to people that are alone when I’m with a group. Who knows what their story is. So glad you got to see your Gators game. CM definitely gets cool points too… for being so cool with it.
im with brenda – cool points for CM too! way to go girl. and it speaks volumes of your marriage and trust and security level for each other.
You had me at college football…
Seriously, very cool post. I like brenda’s observation also – may we all be a little more sensitive to the “single-seaters” around us. Thanks for the challenge to stretch as much for God as we do for the things we say are much less important.
Way to step out.
I watched your Gator play, and they did good that night, although so did Miami until the last quarter or so (but c’mon, we all know that shouldn’t have been a catch near the endzone. He dropped that ball when the elbow hit).
Still congrats on both wins from an FSU Seminole.
