On September 11, 2005, the Indianapolis Colts opened their season against the Baltimore Ravens. Ann and I invited our friend Chris to come over to watch the game.
Not long before that, Ann and I had gone to northern Wisconsin to visit her sister. While we were there, we had visited a meadery and purchased a few bottles. The start of the football season seemed like a great time to crack them open. During the game, we consumed two bottles of brackett, which is a mead with malt added. It was fantastic (note to self: go back to Iron River).
But even better, during the game, defensive player Gary Brackett had a breakout game, racking up two interceptions — which tied his career record to that point.
Naturally, we took credit.
Fast forward to the Colts vs. Saints Super Bowl. Despite the success the Saints had been having, the ball was in the hands of the most accurate quarterback of the decade, Peyton Manning. There was hope. There was a chance.
And then, the nail in the coffin: Manning was picked off by Tracy Porter.
Immediately, I remembered the conversation I had with Chris when discussing getting together (with Ann and Chris’s wife Hilary) to watch the game. Ann and I were providing most of the food; Hilary provided the rest of the food, and Chris was providing the beer.
So, any particular beer you want for the Super Bowl?
Yeah, you know what I haven’t had for a while? A good porter.
…Oh, no. What did I do?
I should have asked for a brown, so Donald could have figured out how to run the darn ball.
I’m sorry, Colts fans. I really am. I’ll try to be more careful.