Tuesday, 8:35 a.m., she opens her e-mail and reads that, “…tomorrow, June 6, 2012 [is] INTEGRIS Thunder Spirit Day!” She notices her place of employment used not one, but TWO exclamation marks in an official “wear Thunder clothes to work tomorrow” message. She’s now certain that a good portion of her brain will be completely preoccupied by the impending Oklahoma City Thunder-San Antonio Spurs GAME 6 for every remaining second of the day.
11:30 p.m. that evening, she rolls over to stare at the alarm clock and groans. “Uhhhnnnnnhhh!” she thinks to herself, “I was right! C’mon brain, shut it off. You’ve got to rest up and save your energy for TOMORROW, the real and actual bona fide game day. Ugh.” Five minutes later, she starts thinking over again the problem of which “Thunder Wear” she’ll don for work tomorrow. Would it be her official NBA Kevin Durant Jersey? Or should she go casual and wear her “Thunder U” tee? She rolls over to stare at the alarm clock again and it’s 11:48. The last cognition she can recall had all periods between the words: “Must. Stop. Thinking….Cripes.”
Wednesday morning, 9:40 a.m. She has already explained to two people what “Thunder U” means and why her t-shirt IS indeed an appropriate choice for the day. As she whisks into her office to grab her massive “Thunder Power Flowers” she stops dead in her tracks, her gaze focusing on the weather outside her large picture window. Was that….thunder she heard? What!? Rain was pouring down the windows and the question in her head was answered with a second roll of thunder, louder this time and immediately influencing a ridiculously large smile across her face. Yes. It was an omen.
Wednesday afternoon, she strolls the halls to find someone, anyone, who will prognosticate about tonight’s game. She finds at least three people who help relieve her anxiety for a full four minutes.
Wednesday evening, 5:15 p.m. she calls her husband to carefully plan the food they will consume during the game. She pulls into Ted’s Cafe Escondido parking lot thirty minutes later to pick up a “set up” (salsa, cheese dip, chips and tortillas) to accompany the chicken fajitas and guacamole her husband was preparing at home. She was third in line at the “To Go” counter and realized her idea was also replicated by no fewer than the two others in line, one person calling in an order on the phone, and three people sitting in chairs staring menacingly at those who had actually planned to call ahead. Ted’s Set Ups were going like hot cakes…it seemed as if the whole world needed Mexican food to survive the game – now only two hours and fifteen minutes away. As she left the restaurant, she decided not to ruin the good karma for the Thunder by smiling triumphantly and holding up HER set up in front of those still waiting on theirs.
6:30 p.m. She and her husband are still in the kitchen, running around as if they were just learning to cook. They’re beyond distracted with the pre-game shows, the tension building up in their guts, and the fact that they had to have everything completely perfect so that every single brain cell could focus on the game once it started. They COULD NOT leave something undone in the food, pet care, plant watering and general chores department….it would be impossible to perform these tasks during the commercials. If someone had peeked in the window to observe, there might very well have been little blurs of people appearing to be moving in “fast forward” mode. GAME TIME was almost here!
8:00 p.m. Her bottom is sitting squarely in her cordovan, nailhead-detailed armchair. Continue reading Exposed: Thunder Fan Reveals Internal Dialogue During the Western Conference Finals