Coming to Terms with the Existence of Football
I don’t do sports. I don’t play them, I don’t watch them, and I most importantly don’t understand them. I still get basketballs, footballs, and blueballs confused. Until I was not-so-gently corrected by a friend, I thought Tiki Barber was the name of a Hawaiian hair salon. So it comes as no surprise that I not only don’t participate in watching the weekend football games, but I actually go out of my way to avoid them.
My roommate and I have an understanding: I leave the apartment when she watches the Eagles game and she leaves the apartment when I watch Grey’s Anatomy. We both find the others’ television viewing choice ridiculous and pointless. On the rare occasion I make the mistake of sticking around during a football game I am subjected to her ear-piercing screams that are so loud and so full of energy that people must mistake her cheers for domestic abuse. When they are winning she shouts; when they are losing she screams. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation for me.
However, she apparently isn’t the only one that enjoys the sport and over the years I’ve had to endure several games. By several, I mean two. I’ve learned a few things along the way:
1. The only slightly appealing thing about watching the games is the food. Things that I would never consider ordering in a restaurant are suddenly A-Ok when they are sitting on a table in front of you. It’s not until I go home and remove crusty nacho cheese from my hair, Dorito crumbs from my shirt, and a chicken wing bone stuck in between my teeth that I feel truly disgusted with myself.
2. Life isn’t a romantic comedy and men don’t find it endearing or cute when you ask them how the players make a touchdown. No one finds my naivety about the game charming and I’ve stopped asking about the difference between the quarterback and the quarter pounder.
3. The Super Bowl commercials are never worth watching the game. Ever. I can’t understand why people say they watch the game just for the commercials. Are some of the commercials clever? Yes. Are some of the commercials chuckle-worthy? On occasion. Are the commercials equivalent to an episode of The Office? No. Is it ever worth it to sit through an hours-long football game just to say to say that the new Snickers commercial that aired around hour ten was so funny that you smiled? No.
4. People expect you to know everything about your school team. I can’t count the number of times that relatives and neighbors and neighbors’ relatives have come up to me and asked me how the Syracuse team was doing this year. I would be more likely to tell you the average annual income for a Dutch family of four than I would be able to tell you how many games Syracuse has won during any particular season.
As I write this my roommates are comparing the schedules for their respective football teams and posting godforsaken game-day magnets on the fridge. It’s too bad that I’ll have to accidentally throw it out and replace it with my hand-crafted schedule that outlines every rerun of Full House on TV.