Thursday, January 23, 2014

Why I Hate Football


Photo by Ed Yourdon.
Okay, okay...hate may be too strong a word.  My husband informs me that ennui is the word I'm looking for, but I told him I like to keep this here blog simple.

I just don't get football.

And, even more, I don't get watching football.  I mean, I might as well just watch paint dry or my cat lick himself for the ten-millionth time.  He claims there is action, drama, compelling story lines.  I say rubbish.

No matter how much my Peyton-Manning-loving-husband tries to explain it to me.  I.just.do.not.get.it.

I recognize that I might not be in the vast majority here.  All sports fill me with a sense of meh.  My poor husband cried when I nixed buying Denver Broncos Superbowl tickets. 

I am totally unable to muster up even one iota of caring about who wins the Superbowl.  Not even one iota.  Not even one iota of an iota. 

Why should I care about a bunch of guys WHO I DON"T KNOW throwing a pigskin around? 

Let me repeat that..I DON'T KNOW them.  Never met any of them.  Don't know them from Adam.  And, frankly, I could care less which ones of them are better at throwing a football around and running into each other, patting each other on the behind, and generally just acting weird.  Because look at that photo up there. A bunch of grown men running into each other is weird.

Weird, weird, weird. 

So what if their team happens to be from the same geographical location as me...whatever.  Still totally do.not.care.

And, watching football is torture.  Especially at the end of the game.

There are only 5 minutes left in the game, honey!

are the most DECEPTIVE words a man ever said.  

5 minutes left turns into at least 25 minutes.

The guys run around for 3 seconds.

The umpire* blows his whistle.

He starts yelling something.

They all run back to a line and kick the ball again.

The umpire* blows his whistle after 4 seconds this time.

He starts waving his arms and yelling something.

Everyone runs back to the line.

Another 3 seconds of play...another whistle blow....more arm waving.

Repeat ad nauseum until you FINALLY get to 0:00.

But then, there's overtime.  Which is agony...because then the whistle is blown approximately every 1.5 seconds until FINALLY someone scores and the game is finally, finally, finally over.  And everyone cheers that they didn't die of boredom during it.

Or...maybe that's just me.

Because this is what it all sounds like to me.

*I have been informed that the correct football term is referree.  Whatever.
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11 comments:

  1. Boo! Hiss! How can Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman count as better entertainment than this? Ooh, save the baby raccoon! Someone has a sore throat! How gripping!

    :)

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    Replies
    1. Good thing Dr. Quinn is there to save all the idiots who smash their heads together on the football field.

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  2. You probably hate football because your husband is cheering for the wrong team ;)

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    1. Probably that's it. Even when we lived in RI, my husband was a diehard Peyton Manning fan...so first the Colts and then the Broncos. I keep hoping Peyton will go into retirement (ssshh....don't tell him I said that).

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  3. I'm completely, totally, utterly with you. Go clock!

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  4. Keep your head up, Amelia, it's almost over...before it begins again.

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    Replies
    1. Yes...but then after football, comes basketball and March Madness and then you get into baseball. Aaargh..

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  5. Football is THE worst. And the NFL games are so overblown and ridiculous. They attempt to make them seem all dramatic with their tense music and the replays and the commentators, but it's still mind-numbingly boring.

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  6. I'm soooo glad we don't own a television...! :-) Theresa B

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  7. I totally hear u. All I see is guys running around - jumping on each and getting hurt. It is very boring - thanks for posting.

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  8. I am with you. I really should thank God every day that my husband is not a football fan. High school and college marching band was sheer torture for me - not the marching part, but the sitting in the stands for the football game part. I always brought a book.

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