Once upon a time, there was a little boy who loved football. He was especially in love with the Notre Dame Irish and loved to watch them play every game.
Each Saturday he would faithfully don his jersey and run around the house yelling "hike" and "touchdown", while dreaming of wearing the blue and gold someday as a player. He would watch the team every week on TV and mimic their every move. He would ride past campus yelling "golden dome" and "football game" in the spirit of Notre Dame and it's great football tradition. He was a true fan.
Then one Saturday, his loving daddy said, "Hey buddy, you're becoming such a big boy. I think it's about time you went to see a game." What glory! What bliss! The little boy was overwhelmed with excitement in anticipation of the game... He reveled in the pre-game tailgate, the sight of the Goodyear blimp, and the walk through campus (on his daddy's shoulders) toward his shining moment.
And when he and his daddy arrived at the BIG stadium, saw all the other fans screaming loudly, and heard the (really) loud fighter jets fly overhead, the little boy surveyed the scene and said,
"No Daddy. No more football game."
[What a sweetie! :) Thankfully, M's outlook improved once the Irish entered the field and he had a great time (even though the team was rather pathetic!) He made it to halftime before succombing to the desire for a nap... How much we love our little Irish-loving boy! Happy first game in person, buddy!]