I never was much of a football fan.  Of course, I watched with the family when the boys were young, (notably, I stepped out of the room just as Doug Flutie made his Hail Mary pass for Boston College decades ago), but I was not disappointed that our sons chose to play soccer and lacrosse.

However, now that my grandson Grady is the kicker for his high school varsity team, I have become very interested in the game.  I plan my fall visits to Maryland around his home games. I love his commitment to the sport and the grace of his almost always successful kicks.

Last fall, I began to watch the Boston Patriots games on TV—I thought it was time to try to understand the game a bit.  However, on my ornery smart TV, no matter what I did, I could only get the games in Spanish.  I clicked on “language” and chose “English,” but no success, no matter how often I tried.

I should have called the TV repair folks, but never remembered to do so.  That is why on Sunday, I sat alone on the sofa and watched the entire Super Bowl en Español.  In all honesty, the commercials and the refs’ explanation of flags thrown were in English. So was Rihana.

Those I understood.