You know it’s an event when you have to capitalize the first letter. Kind of like The Bubonic Plague or The Scottish Reformation.
I don’t mind football. Really, I don’t. Grown men running around in hot pants, grunting and banging into things is totally normal in my life and I’m certain many worlds could be conquered if we could harness that raw energy and move it from a 100 yard field to, say, Mars.
Now that’s a Space Race.
No, football itself is not questionable to me. Fantasy Football leagues, that’s a bizarre deal there, because in what other arena would the news that a complete stranger with a pulled groin cause a facebook status update bemoaning the injustice in life?
Why must the groins always be pulled, anyway? It’s simply fishy to me.
But the real kicker of strange behavior during pigskin season for me is the football fan.
Does anyone really believe stripping down to your knickers and painting your body blue makes a whit of difference to the game?
I don’t. I think it just makes you itchy.
And what about wearing a large piece of foam cheese on your head or Viking horns? Why? Why would a normal person do such a thing?
No matter my questions, I think football fanaticism is here to stay.
I suppose these questions will remain one of life’s great unknowns … kind of like “exactly what kind of animal group does Uniqua from the Backyardigans identify with?”
Because I’ve never seen a pink, polka-dotted, suspender-wearing animal with antennae in real life. But I’ve also never been to Papua New Guinea, either, so maybe I just need to expand my horizons.
In the meantime, it’s back to watching the Broncos with my true love. Don’t tell anyone, but I painted my bum orange in support of the team. Just kidding.