I'm not complaining, not really. Life is a many-splendored thing and lazy Sundays have their place in the tapestry. Days where time slides by swiftly and softly, leaving only the faintest ripple in its wake as it skips past like a stone across the surface of a lake. Some people will argue that these Sundays are best enjoyed in the company of another, preferably one with milk-smooth skin and a laugh like the tinkle of sleigh bells. I wouldn't know, although I'd imagine 16 hours of intertwined legs and soft brown hair would certainly have its charms. That's not what I was thinking about today as I lay among the blankets and dozed contentedly, although I would be lying if I claimed that the occasional fair-skinned beautiful creature did not drift through my mind. She was far outnumbered, though, by big sweaty men in too-tight pants. Big sweaty men grabbing each other, pulling each other to the ground, slapping each other on the ass, and leaping into big piles of muscular manhood.
I AM ready for some football.
Sunday was made for football. There's a missing verse in Genesis, which informs you that on the seventh day God wasn't really done with creation. He'd yet to grant man the ability to understand woman (a full day project in and of itself, even for God) or to live near other men without insulting their mothers and starting wars. Those are very important things and I'm sure God meant to get around to them, but first he wanted to sit back in his recliner with some beer and buffalo wings and watch the Packers game. (Oh yes, God is clearly a Packers fan. The Packers are owned by the residents of Green Bay, along with some outsiders, and God's very much into the whole "The Meek shall inherit the team" thing. If you need further evidence there's Brett Favre's arm, which was clearly made by him, and the fact that one of the most storied and important franchises in sports history resides in a tiny little town, the entire population of which could visit Manhattan without making much of a demographic blip there. God loves the Pack, although he's a little sore at them now since he lost a few Gs when Vick beat them at Lambeau.) One thing led to another and God ended up in a chicken induced slumber in his chair, never getting around to the whole peace love and understanding thing. It was worth it, though. The Packers won. I'll grant you it wasn't much of a competition, as there weren't any other teams at that point. Heck, the Packers only had two players and one of them was a girl. That's the main reason for the whole be fruitful and multiply thing, God wanted to fill in the O-line and maybe get a backup QB in case Adam blew out his arm. 6 billion people later the Pack still can't front a decent D-line. This planet will get more crowded before it gets less.
Anyway, there are plenty of reasons to love football besides worshiping the pinnacle of God's creation. For those who are sports-disinclined there are always the cheerleaders, delightful to look at and serving absolutely no practical purpose (Perhaps you expect me to make some sort of joke here like "Just like a normal woman!" That's absolutely shocking, I would not. Cheerleaders wear significantly less clothing, on average. Except if we're talking about teenagers. In fact it's pretty hard to tell the difference between cheerleaders and teenage girls, except that in the mall teenage girls aren't paid to stand around, they do it for free, and cheerleaders have fewer piercings.) For those who are sports disinclined and lacking in aesthetic sense there are muscley men in tight uniforms grappling with one another. I am very uncomfortable talking about this topic. I hate having to explain why the quarterback puts his hand on the center's ass and everybody pretends this is not homosexual. I hate even more explaining Dan Marino's tendency to lick his fingers, ingesting ounces of ass-sweat over the course of an average game, and why THAT's not homosexual. Next topic please.
For those of us who do appreciate Football for the game and not the eye-candy it's currently the preseason and we couldn't be more excited if we tried. Seriously, we're trying and we can't be more excited than we are, which is to say not at all. There are two problems with preseason football. For one it doesn't count for anything and the starters only play one to two downs a game, during which time 30% of your favorite team is sure to come down with career ending injuries. For another there's the fact that it's played at bizzare times like 8:00 PM on a Thursday, which is a great time for terrible NBC sitcoms and a terrible time for football games. Watching the Ravens and Eagles third stringers scrimmage at 9:47 in the evening just feels wrong. It may get better ratings than the State of the Union address, but at its core it's like watching porn at 1:32 on a Tuesday. While your mother's in the other room making lasagna. Not that I've ever done that. I'm uncomfortable again. Next topic.
Football was made for Sundays just like Sundays were made for football. Without football people would have to talk to their families or go to Church on the day of rest, and without Sunday football isn't football. It's okay to have the occasional Monday night game, or Thanksgiving contest, but football was made for Sunday. It's a little reward for getting through the week, and something to sustain you for the five days to come. Unlike other sports, that are spread out throughout the week, football is concentrated. It claims an entire day for its own and then leaves you free for unimportant things like work and procreation on other days. A baseball fan can't have sex while his team is on the West Coast because the games end too late. For a football fan that's not a problem 5 days a week.
Some people like football for the things associated with it, like pretzels, beer, and companionship. Those are pretty nice, but for me it's the game itself that is the true attraction. The strategy mixed with violence. The long anticipation of the play followed by seven seconds of quick and decisive actions. The closeups of the cheerleaders' breasts. The hail marys and the well executed running plays with two cutbacks. Blitzing by the Mike linebacker and well-disguised coverage. Hard hits and big whiffs. You can't beat the action, nor the intelligence. Football is the only sport that deserves its own day.
The leaves are turning on the trees and I'm ready for football. It's not coming until mid-September this year, but I'm ready. Big hits and highlight shows. Doddering old Madden and getting-there Chris Berman. Steroid scandals and whiny wide outs. Bring on the pigskin!