By Karen Cimms

kcimms@tnonline.comThe Super Bowl is next Sunday, which gives me a week to figure out what we're doing. It also brings back memories about the first time I ever really acknowledged football's big day.It was 1986 and everybody was doing the "Super Bowl Shuffle" with Jim McMahon and the Chicago Bears (who danced themselves to a victory over New England that year).In the days leading up to the big game, I happened into the living room, where I found my 2 1/2-year-old son in a three-point stance in front of the television wearing a Giants football helmet my father had given him.At first I had no idea what he was doing, but after watching him, I realized he was mimicking the players on TV. I was stunned, and I still have no idea who put the game on for him. I can only assume he changed the channel himself.Now, in most households, that might not seem that unusual, but it was in mine.My husband is a musician. Sports never interested him, and that was OK with me. The only problem was that when Garrett was little, I worried that he didn't have the typical role model you know, the dad who takes you out in the backyard and teaches you how to throw a high spiral pass or to shag a fly ball.Turns out I didn't need to worry.While my son inherited his father's musical ability he began fingering recognizable tunes on the piano at a very young age, sat in with his father's band on the drums around 6 or 7, and taught himself to play bass guitar in his mid-teens he also developed a natural love for sports, with no help from anyone.After watching Garrett running plays in the living room, I told my husband that I thought we should watch the Super Bowl that year, if for no other reason than because it was clear that our son was a fan.In order to make it more fun for all of us, I planned an indoor picnic with hot dogs, baked beans and macaroni salad a tradition that's continued through the years, with minor additions or deletions, depending on what we feel like eating and who's coming.So how can I call this nature versus nurture when it was clear that my son had innate interests and abilities in both music and sports? We can't, at least not as it applies to him.We can, however, still apply this particular theory to this particular situation.As I said, my husband had zero interest in sports, and although I grew up loving basketball, mostly because Pistol Pete Maravich was so darn cute, and enjoying my high school football games, I was pretty much clueless when it came to sports. Some may argue I still am, but thanks to our son, my husband and I have come a long way.We are now die-hard Phillies fans. We can sing all the words to "Fly, Eagles Fly," and more likely than not, the TV is tuned to a Penn State game most Saturdays from September through November.The jury may still be out on this one, but I would call that a definite case of nature versus nurture.