Stop and Smell the… Football?


I like to watch football…lot. College football doesn’t really get my adrenaline flowing so much, though, because it’s impossible to keep track of what seems to be an infinite number of teams. Identification becomes difficult, and locations seem too broad-specific. Here is an example of what I mean: you have University of Kentucky, Eastern Kentucky, and Western Kentucky football programs. Who knows what other Kentucky prefixes or suffixes that particular state also offers. Then you have people talking about “O.U.” Is that Oklahoma? Ohio U.? Perhaps Oregon? There is just too much to think about, rather than enjoying the greater simplicity of 32 teams that are almost all associated with major cities.

On the other hand, Sundays become complicated when you don’t cough up the $400 it takes to subscribe to the NFL Sunday Ticket. My viewing experience is pretty limited with TWC’s basic high-def package. In fact, on some Sundays I am almost convinced that Los Angeles just hates football. There just isn’t any other logical explanation when the local Fox affiliate airs the pre-game show, then cut to golf rather than showing, ya know, the game.

Also – and I’m sure it comes as no surprise – but the west coast likes to show west coast teams. I didn’t grow up following any of those clubs, so west coast-exclusive matchups become passive viewing in my household. And in those cases, I tend to just automatically favor the underdog. Everyone loves an underdog story when there is no other interest involved….. but existing in this rather unfortunate time in history, we are all subject to watching players like Tom Brady sit back in the pocket all day long, eating a sandwich and drinking a glass of Chardonnay, while waiting on a receiver to get open. We all know that, once the Chardonnay is gone, BRADY IS PROBABLY GOING TO END UP PASSING TO WES WELKER, SO COVER WES WELKER! And therein lies the problem: our armchair logic becomes infuriating when the defense on the field disregards the telepathic messages we send, and we watch Wes Welker and Tom Brady connect for yet another touchdown. How boring to watch winners keep winning.

With all this rationale and time spent, this sport isn’t good for my health, I am realizing. My interest in hoping to watch the Goliaths of the league be brought down brings out the profane negatives, which supersedes the things I should really be appreciating. Football is fun (sometimes), but it isn’t REAL for all of us. It’s only real for the guys on the field, abusing their bodies every week, and for the staff traveling with and supporting these players. For everyone else it’s some level of hobby.

The real point of all this is that I let it become frustrating, and I just need to chill out sometimes. I got sucked into fandom a long time ago, and it’s funny to think about how much I hated football until playing it, starting in 4th grade.

I am only an observer now, and this is my time to create my own, new reality. The obstacles standing between me and my goals are there and really exist, and my energy and focus needs to be on that. After all, we all must remind ourselves that the defense on the field isn’t going to listen to us, so what they do (or fail to do) is out of our control. For as long as we are passengers on the ride, we sometimes need to take a break, take a second look at the things we once noticed and appreciated, and to just stop for a moment and smell the freakin’ roses.


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