I have a manfession to make. After a lifetime of being a huge NBA and sometime baseball fan who has (at least since the retirement of Fran Tarkenton, Lynn Swann, and Terry Bradshaw, which came after a period of huge O.J. Simson adoration) long reviled the gridiron as moron fodder, I find myself, lately, not only watching, but really enjoying watching football. It’s exciting!
It started earlier this year. A friend of mine’s cousin was the quarterback for Clemson, which made watching games incredibly exciting, if only to watch her watch him and scream at the TV. That led to watching Clemson games even without her around, which led to watching other college games and some NFL games (mostly because as a died in the wool NYer living in New England, I was watching to see, though it’s a rarity, the Pats LOSE, which they kindly did last week.).
My reluctant football enjoyment climaxed in the Fiesta bowl comeback victory of huge underdog Boise State, which I turned on at the end of the forth quarter. As I recall, I got to see three touchdowns in the final minute or two, and then an incredible overtime to what’s being called one of the greatest college games of all time.
Now that the Patriots are eliminated – thank god, I don’t know if I could’ve stood two weeks of Masshole Superbowl-prep shenanigans – I’m not as interested, but for the first time in years, I’ll be watching the Superbowl for a reason other than to see if my numbers in the pool came up.
(I once won a thousand dollars in a Super Bowl pool, and have been giving back ever since. Actually, it’s a true M.A.I.D. story. When I was in college, John, the manager of the bar I frequented, a craggy, grumpy addictive gambler sort who I loved, bet me I couldn’t carry my girlfriend home the five blocks up Broadway in the December snow and cold. When the bar closed, off we trod, and, carrying her over-the-threshold style, I made it all the way, and John said he’d give me something special as payment. Well, he bought me a $20 dollar box in a pool, it was the year that the Giants won the game, and the numbers for the second, third, and forth quarters were all identical, and were my numbers! My macho woman-hauling netted me big bucks. I’ve been carrying women around and spending too much on super bowl pools ever since.)
The best (or worst?) thing about this Super Bowl is that I don’t really care who wins. My football fandom rests on hatreds, and I have no particular dislike of either the Bears or the Colts. So, go . . . FOOTBALL! I can’t believe I just wrote that.
