I Still Want Football Sunday. I Just Don’t Want Monday to Feel Like It.

Football is back, which apparently means we're all supposed to start drinking before lunch.

Pregame drinks.

Beer during the 1 o'clock game.

Another game starts, so obviously another drink.

Then dinner.

Then Sunday Night Football.

And somewhere around 10:30 Sunday night, you realize tomorrow is Monday and you've basically been drinking on and off for most of the day.

I've done versions of that Sunday plenty of times.

Not falling-down drunk.

Nothing dramatic.

Just enough that Monday morning felt harder than it needed to.

This is my first football season since I stopped drinking.

And I'm realizing something.

I still want all of Sunday. I just don't want to give Monday part of it anymore.

Football Drinking Is Its Own Kind of Drinking

Going out for drinks usually has a beginning and an end.

You meet friends at seven.

You have dinner.

You have a few drinks.

You go home.

Football can be different because the day starts so early.

Pregame coverage is on in the morning.

The first games start at one.

Then there are afternoon games.

Then dinner.

Then Sunday Night Football.

Nobody necessarily decides: I'm going to drink all day.

You just open something during the first game.

Then another.

Someone comes over.

Food comes out.

Another game starts.

You make dinner.

Maybe wine sounds good with that.

Suddenly something that felt casual has stretched across eight or nine hours.

That's what I think I notice differently now.

It wasn't always how much I drank at once.

Sometimes it was simply how much of the day drinking was allowed to occupy.

I Never Thought of Sunday as Day Drinking

This is funny because if somebody invited me to go day drinking, I knew exactly what that meant.

Brunch cocktails.

A patio.

Maybe a summer party.

Something that started early and probably ended with everybody needing food.

Football Sunday somehow got an exemption.

Opening a beer during a 1 p.m. game didn't feel like day drinking.

It was football.

Having another during the 4 p.m. game didn't feel like continuing to drink all afternoon.

There was another game on.

Wine with dinner was just wine with dinner.

And then suddenly it was Sunday night.

The individual drinks always had an explanation.

I don't think I ever really looked at the entire day.

Football has a funny way of making a very long drinking day feel like a series of completely unrelated drinks.

Then Monday Shows Up

Saturday drinking has a built-in luxury.

Sunday.

Sunday football doesn't.

When the night game ends, Monday is sitting right there.

• Alarm.
• Coffee.
• Work.
• Emails.
• Appointments.
• School schedules for people with kids.
• The gym you promised yourself you'd get back to.
• Whatever Monday looks like in your house.

And I don't think I appreciated how often I was making Monday morning harder while I was still enjoying Sunday afternoon.

Again, this wasn't some giant hangover every week.

Sometimes it was just feeling off.

A little more tired.

A little dehydrated.

A little less motivated.

Waking up during the night.

Opening my eyes Monday morning and immediately wishing I had another hour.

That's enough.

I don't need Monday to be terrible to decide I'd rather it feel better.

I Used to Think the Wine Was Helping Me Wind Down

Sunday night has its own feeling.

The weekend is ending.

You're looking at the week ahead.

Maybe you're cleaning the kitchen while the night game is still on.

You're thinking about everything you need to do tomorrow.

A glass of wine can feel like the perfect way to take the edge off that transition.

I definitely thought of it that way.

A drink meant: Okay. I'm done. Sit down. Relax.

The problem is that something can make you feel relaxed at 9 p.m. and still not do you any favors at 3 a.m.

Alcohol can make falling asleep feel easier while disrupting sleep later in the night.

I didn't need a sleep study to tell me every time that happened.

Sometimes Monday morning told me.

I used to think Sunday night wine helped me wind down. Monday morning had a different opinion.

The Strange Part Is That I Still Want Everything Else

This is where not drinking continues to surprise me.

I don't want to give up football Sunday.

At all.

I want the game on.

I want too much food.

I want somebody complaining about a call that happened twenty minutes ago.

I want the pregame shows in the background while we're doing other things.

I want the windows open because September can't decide whether it's summer or fall yet.

I want something cooking that makes the entire house smell good.

I want the blanket nearby even though it's probably still too warm for the blanket.

I want all of it.

I just don't really need alcohol to make those things feel like football season.

That's a much smaller sacrifice than I expected.

Actually, I'm not even sure it feels like a sacrifice anymore.

The Nova Pour: Zero

I still want a drink beside me.

Not necessarily alcohol.

A drink.

Something cold in a nice glass.

Something I made rather than grabbed out of the refrigerator.

Something sitting next to me while I'm cooking or watching the game.

I've realized the ritual matters to me.

Maybe more than what used to be in the glass.

Apple Rosemary Fizz

A Crisp Game-Day Pour: Zero

It's crisp, a little tart, not overly sweet, and easy enough to make during a commercial break.

What You'll Need

• 2 ounces crisp apple cider
• 3 ounces sparkling water
• 1 ounce fresh lemon juice
• 1 rosemary sprig
• 2 or 3 thin apple slices
• Plenty of ice
• Optional: a small splash of ginger beer for more bite

How to Make It

Fill a rocks glass or stemless glass with ice.

Add the apple cider and lemon juice.

Top with sparkling water.

Give it a gentle stir.

Add the apple slices and rosemary.

That's it.

No smoke machine.

No twelve-dollar bottle of something you'll use once.

No ingredient you have to order online.

It's just a really good game-day drink.

And the point isn't that it tastes exactly like wine.

It doesn't.

I think I'm finally getting past needing every alcohol-free drink to audition for the job alcohol used to have.

Sometimes I just want something cold, pretty and a little more interesting than water sitting next to me during the game.

I Don't Need Sober Football

I don't really want to start putting the word sober in front of everything I do.

• Sober football.
• Sober dinner.
• Sober vacation.
• Sober Saturday.

At some point, I think that would make alcohol feel more important than it actually is.

I'm watching football.

That's it.

The game doesn't know what's in my glass.

The people I'm with probably don't care nearly as much as I once assumed they would.

The food tastes the same.

A bad call is still a bad call.

My team can still ruin my afternoon without any assistance from alcohol.

Some traditions don't need replacing.

They just need one part edited out.

I don't need sober football. I just need football without the part I don't miss.

And I'm Not Saying Nobody Should Drink During Football

This isn't that article.

If you like having a beer during the game, I'm not sitting in my living room judging you.

I didn't stop drinking because I decided everyone else should.

I'm figuring out what feels better for me.

That's it.

And right now, one of the things that feels surprisingly good is getting to the end of Sunday and knowing I didn't quietly borrow energy from Monday.

That's become more valuable to me than I expected.

Is This Drink Worth Tomorrow Morning?

I think this might be one of the biggest ways my thinking has changed.

I used to make the drinking decision almost entirely based on the moment I was in.

Would wine be good with dinner?

Yes.

Would a beer be good during the game?

Sure.

Would another drink sound good?

Probably.

I didn't always include tomorrow in the calculation.

Now I do.

Not dramatically.

I'm not sitting there with a spreadsheet calculating the return on investment of an Apple Rosemary Fizz.

But somewhere in the back of my mind is a really simple question:

Do I want this enough to potentially feel it tomorrow?

Sometimes people will answer yes.

That's their decision.

Right now, mine is usually no.

And the interesting thing is that I don't feel deprived when I make it.

I feel like I'm choosing Monday too.

Monday Is Becoming Part of My Sunday Decision

That sentence would have sounded incredibly boring to me a few years ago.

Congratulations, Danielle.

You discovered Monday morning.

But I mean it.

There is something really nice about waking up after a full weekend and not feeling like you need another weekend to recover from it.

Coffee tastes good because coffee tastes good, not because it's performing emergency services.

You remember the end of the game.

You slept.

You can get moving.

The weekend actually did what a weekend was supposed to do.

It gave something back.

I didn't stop liking Sunday. I just stopped wanting Sunday to take something from Monday.

The Whole Weekend Feels Longer This Way

This has been one of the unexpected things about not drinking.

Time feels different.

Not because the clock moves differently.

Because I'm present for more of it.

A Saturday night doesn't quietly remove half of Sunday morning.

A Sunday night doesn't make Monday feel like punishment.

There are more usable hours.

More mornings.

More energy.

More little pieces of the weekend that I used to give away without really thinking about them.

I thought removing alcohol might make weekends feel smaller.

So far, the opposite has happened.

They feel longer.

Opening Weekend Is a Good Test

We're only in the second week of September.

It isn't technically fall.

I'm not ready for pumpkins everywhere.

Please give me a minute.

But football being back is one of those moments when the season starts changing before the calendar officially does.

Schedules change.

Weekends change.

Food changes.

The television is suddenly on all afternoon.

Old routines start waking up again.

And I think that's why opening weekend is interesting for me this year.

It's the first time I'm getting to see which parts of the tradition I actually loved and which parts were simply attached to it.

Football?

Keeping it.

Food?

Obviously keeping it.

Lazy Sunday afternoon?

Absolutely.

Apple Rosemary Fizz?

She's invited back.

Feeling terrible Monday morning?

I think we can let that tradition go.

What I'm Keeping This Football Season

I'm still going to make too much food.

The game will still be on all afternoon.

I'll still complain about calls like anyone on television can hear me.

I'll still light the candle even though it isn't technically fall yet.

And I'll probably make another Apple Rosemary Fizz.

None of that feels like I'm missing football season.

It actually feels like I'm getting more of it.

Because when the Sunday night game ends, the weekend gets to end there too.

No middle-of-the-night wake-up wondering why I'm suddenly wide awake.

No dry mouth.

No Monday morning wishing I'd made a different decision the night before.

Just football Sunday.

And then Monday.

I think I'm starting to like letting each day keep what belongs to it.

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