Hear Ye, Hear Ye

Thanks to my fabulously connected brother, this weekend I will achieve my lifelong dream of singing the national anthem before a game.

The commentary on this soon-to-be accomplishment has been varied and occasionally bizarre:

• I didn't know you could sing. Yes. Long before I mastered the art of perching on a bar stool or turning chocolate cake into "dinner", I was warbling with the best of them. At one point I was singing in 5 choirs at the same time.
• Have you sung in front of that many people before? That many? No, but it's far from the first time I've sung for a large audience. Most of those pieces were all in Latin or being evaluated by judges or both, so there was way more pressure then than now.
• What anthem are you singing, ours? I'm astounded that I've heard this question more than once. The game is the Chicago Fire vs. the New York Red Bulls. What nations anthem would I be singing? "Well, it's a soccer game, so I thought maybe the Mexican anthem." Could someone please explain this logic to me? Since when does soccer = Mexicans to the exclusion of everyone else? Why not ask me if I'm singing the Italian national anthem or the Brazilian national anthem? And again more than one person asked me this.
• Wow! Are you nervous? Um, no, because it's Thursday. I'm singing on Sunday. The only thing I'm doing today is watching the Browns game at the bar. Nothing to be nervous about until Sunday afternoon.
• So, Let me get this straight: You can stand up and sing the national anthem in front of 15,000 people, but you can't order a pizza on the phone. That is correct. I have confidence that I can sing well, I do not have confidence that I can order a pizza without sounding like a jackass. The pizza guy might make fun of me; 15,000 people who can't imagine soloing in front of a stadium full of people will not.

In general, everyone seems pretty excited for me, especially my boss who was e-mailing clients in Minneapolis and Cincinnati to tell them about it and Gene Honda, who ran around for weeks telling everyone they had to show up even though he may end up missing the game himself for a vacation in (wait for it) Mexico. Mexicanos, al grito de guerrael acero aprestad y el bridon. Y retiemble en sus centros la tierra,al sonoro rugir del canon. ¡Y retiemble en sus centros la tierra,al sonoro rugir de el canon!