On The Buccaneers, and Pumpkin Spice Lattes

It’s 65 degrees at 9:00am. Birds chirp, trees sway, and the blue, cloudless sky stretches on forever. The bubbly girl skips into Starbucks, invigorated by the cool weather. She bounces to the counter, orders a pumpkin spice latte. Squeals when the barista calls her name. Scurries to the porch to enjoy her favorite fall drink. She’s grown tired of iced coffee and hot, sticky mornings.

The Bucs fan sits on his front porch while his blissful puppy enjoys the wet grass beneath her, light wind around her, and beaming sun above her. The guy opens his laptop, loads ESPN's NFL page and his fantasy football lineups, swigs his coffee, and smiles. He’s grown tired of Sundays sans football. It’s the first cool Sunday since March. It's the first NFL Sunday since February.

The first day for pumpkin spice lattes. The first full day of professional football. Renewal. Glee. Hope.

The girl finishes her drink and rushes home. She turns the A/C off and opens the windows. She wraps herself in a blanket and dives into the new fiction she just downloaded to her tablet. Homework can wait. It’s the first cool Sunday since March.

The guy flips between the Red Zone channel and the early game. He cracks open a beer and reheats the leftover burger from last night. Yard work and eating healthy can wait. It’s the first NFL Sunday since February.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, it’s not cool anymore. The sun reminds the girl that she lives in Florida, where fall arrives late and never before a cruel September tease. By mid-afternoon, she's shed the blanket, closed the windows, and cranked up the air conditioner. She powers down her tablet. "Icky heat," she whines. "I thought it was doooonnnnneeeee." It’s just another hot Sunday.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, it’s not fun anymore. The Bucs remind the guy that he’s a Tampa Bay fan. By late afternoon, he's on his eighth beer, cursing the coaches and defense, and wishing he could fast forward through the rookie quarterback's growing pains. "How is this happening AGAIN", he moans. "I thought we were done getting blown out!" It’s just another Bucs Sunday.

The girl pouts as she pours a glass of ice water. She dreads class tomorrow. The guy grumbles as he irons his clothes for work. He vows to not watch or listen to sports programming until Tuesday.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the sun begins to set. The heat subsides. The coolness returns. The girl, who thought she’d have to wait foreverrrrrrr to have another pumpkin spice latte, shivers with excitement. "Yay, another ‪#‎PSL‬ tomorrow!"

The guy, who thought his team would have the first pick in the draft again, tempers his frustrations. "There were bright spots. We can’t really be THAT bad."

 It’s the first cool Sunday evening since March. It's the first Sunday Night Football since February. Next Sunday's sure to be pleasant…right?