I was dead-set against it but had a last-minute change of heart the night before and decided we’d be the world’s worst parents–or maybe the best–and let the kids, NY Giants fanatics, watch the Superbowl early Monday morning.
We don’t know any American football fans here–certainly not well enough to invite ourselves over at an ungodly hour (as I had inserted us, for Halloween trick-or-treating, into the Western gated compound of the lovely head here of Ogilvy, to whom I’m forever grateful). Superbowl Monday began with a 5 am wake-up, travel to Beijing’s expat-heavy East side (from our West side university district), and meeting our new friend, writer William Poy Lee, who hooked us up with neighborhood sports bar Paddy O’Shea’s. We got the last seats. Fan allegiance was evenly split. It was nice seeing all those Americans, remembering all the shapes, dress codes, colors, & and sizes we come in.
About a dozen Beijing bars besides O’Shea’s opened for the Big Game, broadcast by the Asian Sports Network (sadly: without the American ads!). Most charged a RMB100 ($16) cover, including eggs, coffee, and beer, so you could be drunk and alert for kick-off at 7:30. O’Shea’s was super nice & let the kids in free. By 10:30, before the incredible last minutes, they got Sprites and pizza.
We were on the subway to the British School by 11:30. They pulled their uniforms over sports jerseys (Kenny wore Tuck), to stares and laughter from commuting Beijingers.
Please don’t tell the headmaster.
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