Cheer, cheer, cheer. Yell, yell, yell.

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November 9, 2015 by unclespike218

I have a hard time understanding exactly how people worship the pigskin so much.

Billions of dollars are poured into this senseless, yet very complex game…and for what? Clothes. Gear. Popularity. Homecoming games. Stadia (yeah, I’m going all Latin-academic on yo asses)…fuck that. Stadia with corporate sponsors that insist on placing their names on them. The phenomenon of tailgate parties. Sports bars. Tee-vees. (You know some of them are purchased solely for the purpose of watching The Big Game.) Fuck: whole tee-vee networks. Stultifying color commentary that goes on for HOURS and HOURS. And it’s the worst kind: cameras placed directly on ugly overfed straight guys emotionally masturbating and reliving those glory days in suits that barely fit, arguing with each other over God-knows-what. Or discussing gridiron kids in college who are earning far more air time than anyone that age deserves for physical prowess of some sort…in which case, well, bully to them or something. I can’t tell you the last time I…wait, yes I can. Saw a Duke-NC State (I think) game a year ago, and I was bored stiff. But before that, who knows when last I saw a football game? Years and glorious years. But what really confuses me is when a fellow logophile – on the same orthographic level as I, no less – actually gets into the game enough to discuss terminology, strategy, and the like on a public forum, to the point that it’s evident he puts actual time and energy into knowing this stuff.

I’m sorry…I grew up a pencil-necked stick figure and 90-pound weakling, the smartest boy with the highest IQ in the class, the likes of whom football players ate for breakfast and spit back out before grunting and tackling each other on the field. Never mind that I’ve come into my own and – it must be said, as someone who has always been weight conscious – now weighs twice as much as I did in high school. Football and its merciless trappings have been my kryptonite from day one, and there are few things I cannot abide less than this game. It’s a damned blessing I was adopted from Texas into a family that within two years, hightailed it north into Colorado and ensured that I would not be pummeled into a grease spot by linebackers looking for an easy target that opposed their religion. Because folks? Football in Texas – especially west Texas – is a religion.

Oh, and yes, it must be acknowledged: I do not play well with others. How’d ya guess?

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