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Football is the ONLY sport.
Jan. 3rd, 2011 05:14 amMy beloved Wisconsin Badgers did not win the Rose Bowl . . . cue much gnashing of teeth and eating of ice cream in my despair.
Yes, I'm ridiculously invested in my favorite teams. So sue me.
Someone recently asked me why I love the game so much. "In case you hadn't noticed," she said, "you're a girl."
Uh, yeah. You say that like the two things are mutually exclusive.
I've always loved football. I remember my dad coming home from work at the Navy Yard with the football pools, and sometimes he'd let me and my younger brother each pick a team. I always chose the Atlanta Falcons. What? I was five years old, I was probably just picking my favorite colors.
My brother hated football just as much as I loved it, so although it would otherwise be expected that he would be the one learning all this, he'd have nothing to do with the game. Having always been a daddy's girl, I was perfectly happy to spend long Sunday afternoons in the living room with my dad, learning about fourth-down conversions and how to earn a safety. In my senior year of high school, when the school board got progressive and decided that the girls would spend two weeks in gym class learning to play football and the boys would play field hockey, I was one of only two girls who knew anything about how the game was played.
Kristin was the other one. She had three younger brothers and grew up actually playing backyard scrimmages.
We pretty much took over the class, much to the dismay of Messieurs Cleary and Tucker, both of whom clearly thought that this two weeks was the biggest waste of their time in oh, say, ever.
You'll still hear me, sometimes, screaming at the TV, "You waste of a quarterback! I can throw a better pass than that, and I need two hands to do it!"
It's true-- my stubby little fingers are too short to hold a football properly. I can throw a surprisingly decent spiral with both hands, though, and I can make a better pitch than a lot of professionals. And the flea-flicker basically has my name on it.
But I digress.
So I suppose that's where it all started, although I also enjoy the violence of it, the potential for mayhem and injury.
Yes, I'm a bloodthirsty little creature, I know.
Yes, I'm ridiculously invested in my favorite teams. So sue me.
Someone recently asked me why I love the game so much. "In case you hadn't noticed," she said, "you're a girl."
Uh, yeah. You say that like the two things are mutually exclusive.
I've always loved football. I remember my dad coming home from work at the Navy Yard with the football pools, and sometimes he'd let me and my younger brother each pick a team. I always chose the Atlanta Falcons. What? I was five years old, I was probably just picking my favorite colors.
My brother hated football just as much as I loved it, so although it would otherwise be expected that he would be the one learning all this, he'd have nothing to do with the game. Having always been a daddy's girl, I was perfectly happy to spend long Sunday afternoons in the living room with my dad, learning about fourth-down conversions and how to earn a safety. In my senior year of high school, when the school board got progressive and decided that the girls would spend two weeks in gym class learning to play football and the boys would play field hockey, I was one of only two girls who knew anything about how the game was played.
Kristin was the other one. She had three younger brothers and grew up actually playing backyard scrimmages.
We pretty much took over the class, much to the dismay of Messieurs Cleary and Tucker, both of whom clearly thought that this two weeks was the biggest waste of their time in oh, say, ever.
You'll still hear me, sometimes, screaming at the TV, "You waste of a quarterback! I can throw a better pass than that, and I need two hands to do it!"
It's true-- my stubby little fingers are too short to hold a football properly. I can throw a surprisingly decent spiral with both hands, though, and I can make a better pitch than a lot of professionals. And the flea-flicker basically has my name on it.
But I digress.
So I suppose that's where it all started, although I also enjoy the violence of it, the potential for mayhem and injury.
Yes, I'm a bloodthirsty little creature, I know.
