There you are, thumbing eye black across your face, mouthguard ready and the pigskin prepped to fly. You glare at the opposition – all 11 of them across the field and send a sideways glance to your coach. Are you a player in Sunday’s big game? No way. This is bigger than football. Helmets and pads can’t help you now.
It’s time to buy a home and your dream house is at stake. Let the bodies hit the ground.
The moment you decide to buy a house, the adrenaline starts pumping. Because you want a house, but not just any house. You want the trophy house. The one that has everything on your list, smothered in gold. Actually, painted ivory with black shutters will do. This is the house you’ll be living in for the foreseeable future and you refuse to settle. Refuse to land in second place, outdone by other bidders. Nothing, not even the threat of hurricane weather will stop you. The national anthem has played, and it’s go time.
Besides, your fans have watched you make it this far and you can’t let them down now. Fueling your purchase angst is your adoring, wide-eyed daughter who dreams out loud (and loudly) about her new fairies and rainbows playroom. Mental note to add a playroom to the list. Your son, donning your several-sizes-too-big jersey, smearing your eye black everywhere except under his eyes (sneaky little imp), shouts from the kitchen countertop about forts in the new den and a backyard shed turned military-grade, post-apocalyptic bunker where no girls, especially sisters, will ever be allowed. Maybe it’s time to cut back on the video games.
Then, there’s the dog. Drooling and puppy-faced, staring in your direction. She knows. She always knows. Your spouse will replace you unless you find a greener-than-a-golf-course, fenced-in backyard for that dog. She just sits and gloats, knowing as long as she’s got that look of faux-innocence, furry cuteness down, she’s got you by the chin strap. She’s as fairweather as it gets.
The challenge to land the ideal abode would be impossible if it weren’t for your teammates. God bless the upbeat, property-savvy real estate agent recommended to you by a co-worker. In the draft of homebuying playmakers, this match-up is ideal. She’s been in the pocket with you since the season’s start, guiding, protecting and seizing opportunities.
Tailing the I-formation, about to swing wide in a beeline for the endzone is your loan officer. He scans the field, ready to do whatever it takes to run your loan through each hurdle and into approval territory.
In your periphery are the other players essential to the win. Processors, underwriters, closers and attorneys. Each an expert at their position. Each ready for the handoff.
What you all know is that most game-winning drives aren’t accomplished all at once, but in short surges forward. The completed loan application. The initial loan commitment, which is the proof you need to confidently begin home shopping. The key play of the 7 Day Process, an achievement that may earn you and the others a penalty for excessive celebration. Let them drop the flag, this dab is justified.
In the game of homebuying, timing is everything. Upfront Underwriting is the early win that builds confidence and morale. It breaks tacklers to set up a bid based on an initial loan commitment that could break apart the competition, giving you an opening to sail through.
As the clock runs on each quarter of your mortgage and home purchase journey, the wobbling hula girl on your car dash – the official sponsor of this experience – accompanies you and your fans (slamming Pepsi and popcorn in the backseat) through neighborhoods and into driveways on the zig-zag path to glory.
Every inquiry, every phone call, every tour and every signature has led up to this. The winning touchdown. The championship ring.
Scoring the dream home.