February 3, 2008
I’m really getting into this. I didn’t know which teams were playing until a guy told me today so now all I have to do is find out who the underdog is so I can root for them. Usually that means cheering for the team that doesn’t make the first touchdown.
I hate sports. All of them. Spectator sports are for idiots, but I do respect the genre. Sports bring families together and give fathers and sons something truly safe and pointless to argue about. There is no such thing as a good or bad team to root for. I know, your tiny little brain is about to tell me how evil the Raiders are and I’m just laughing at you on the inside while I nod and pretend to agree with your stupidity.
Stats are dumb too. I don’t care who through what interception in 1974 and it’s completely meaningless. We might as well keep track of dog farts in dog fart museums and hire dog fart analysts to provide commentary on the history of dog farts. Ever watch your kids collect Pokemon cards? Stupid and arbitrary. My daughter collects Disney Princess dolls and keeps track of who wears a bra made of seashells and who wears formal ball gloves with her dress. Dog farts. Tell me the name of the winning Superbowl quarterback and it’s no more significant than reading the stats of a “Squirtle” Pokemon card. The entire industry of sports, Pokemon, Disney Princesses and dog farting could burn up and history wouldn’t be effected whatsoever. Are we better or worse that POGs are gone? It doesn’t matter. That’s the Superbowl.
So why am I going to watch every second of the game? I relish the culture of football. I’m also relieved that I’m not enslaved to that retarded culture. It’s like the Catholics refraining from drunken orgies then celebrating Mati Gras once a year, just to participate in vice they’re freed from year ’round. That’s me eating pork rinds, my Beloved got me some Buffalo chicken wings to heat up, I’ll be drinking beer, eating chili-smothered nachos and probably indulge in some Ho-Ho’s and whatever other kind of junk food comes to my mind.
I love being a sporto for a few hours one day a year. If I could paint my face a team color I probably would. If I was within 15 miles of some sorry idiot who sold those foam “number one” hands I’d pick up one of those too. I want to watch all of the commercials, I even want to hear some pre-game commentary so I know who I’m supposed to watch out for…who has “the best D”. But just between you and I, I have a little soft spot in my heart for the Timberwolves and I’ll be pulling for them to win.