I’m writing this post about football – and why I don’t watch it. I’m a former New Yorker, so I’m rooting for the Jets in the most tangential way, but I’ll be skipping the big game tomorrow and picking up the blog on Monday.
Why don’t I watch/like football? I’ve asked myself that a lot over the years. I love sports in general, with baseball being my favorite, and can easily get interested in hockey, basketball, tennis, even boxing. But I have a mental block where football is concerned. Total apathy. To me, it’s a bunch of very large men, wearing equipment that makes them unrecognizable, gathered around a field, occasionally huddling, occasionally walking around, occasionally tackling each other, occasionally running and throwing and kicking. I have no idea what “fourth and ten” means. I’m clueless about “yards” and “downs.” I couldn’t tell you the difference between a field goal and a touchdown. I don’t know what all those white lines signify. There’s so much starting and stopping that I wonder why people think baseball is boring.
This is not to say I don’t understand the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat; the emotions of rooting for a team don’t change from sport to sport. And I’m sure the scheduling of football – the fact that games are only played once a week – really heightens people’s interest. Getting together with friends and family to watch a game must feel like more of an event, whereas you can catch a baseball game almost any night of the week.
Maybe I’m just a hot weather girl and the notion of watching a game played in frigid temperatures doesn’t appeal to me. Dunno. But good luck to any Jets fans out there. I hope the Super Bowl is in your future – partly because it’ll be exciting for you guys and partly because it’ll mean football is over and baseball is about to begin.
No, that’s not a dumpster at a ballpark. It’s a townhouse in Ogden, Utah, where a guy lived for eight years and drank a whole lot of beer.
According to my high school buddy Dave, who sent the pix along, the landlord thought the tenant was the best renter ever because he never called to complain. I guess he was too busy drinking.
Supposedly, the landlord found 70,000 cans of Coors Light in the place after the guy vacated. How many baseball seasons would it take for you to drink that many beers?
As an aside, how bad is the beer at ball games? Does anyone actually enjoy it? Or is it just the beverage of habit? I’m a bottled water fan, so I’m hardly one to judge. But for anyone old enough to drink, be honest. Is the stuff any good? It sure doesn’t smell like it.
At 3 o’clock Pacific Time I won’t be taking a walk on the beach…won’t be on the phone wishing my friends a happy new year….won’t even be cooking a new year’s day meal. I will be tuning in to the debut of what I’m calling “The Baseball Channel.”
Yes, I know it’s got the “M” and the “L” in the name, plus the word “Network.” But let’s face it. It’s The Baseball Channel and it’s going to be all baseball all the time and I can’t wait.
It has the feel of other great launches and historic events, doesn’t it?
Like Henry Ford’s first car.
Or Steve Jobs’ first Apple computer.
Or the world’s first test tube baby.
(Yeah. She’s all grown up now, with a baby of her own.)
It has the excitement of the Space Shuttle lift off….
and the festive atmosphere of New Year’s Eve in Times Square…
and the thrill I’ll feel when the Beatles finally make their music available on iTunes. (What’s the holdup, boys? I’m getting mightily impatient.)
It’ll be one of the great moments in life, on a par with this.
O.K., no it won’t.
But still. I’m stoked. Only three hours to go.