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Feb. 3, 2007 I DO NOT like Football and I dread the Super Bowl each and every year. My feelings of dread go way back to my High Scholl days when I was the Mascot for our football team. They decided to dress me up in a football uniform and then I would run across the field and through a paper banner with the name of our home team on it. First of all, they had to find the smallest football player on the team to accommodate my small size ( 4' 11" and a whopping 80 lbs) and even though he was rather small by comparison to the other players, I was even smaller and the uniform made me disappear. The helmet covered my eyes and I was unable to see anything as I prepared to make my mad dash toward center field. It might have worked out despite my lack of vision but the boys on the team had other thoughts up their sleeves and what was supposed to be a cute beginning to our big game turned out to be the comedy hit of the season. I had rehearsed the run for weeks and being young and fairly agile, I had no problem crashing through the paper and making a victorious exit after the planned stunt. This turned out to be a huge assumption on my part as the boys had replaced the paper with a bed sheet. It probably had a VERY high thread count because when my unsuspecting body hit that sheet I bounced, rolled, somersaulted and flew for what seemed like an eternity before I landed in a very unlady-like position somewhere near someone's goal post. I have no idea who's goal post it was or much of anything else that happened after I hit that sheet because I was stunned, confused and probably knocked out for a period of time. The stunt made the front page of the local newspaper as did my beautiful and refined landing. I listened to that story for the rest of my senior year (thank God I was graduating that June), and for several years to come. Actually, I am STILL hearing about that stunt. That wasn't the only reason why I dislike football and while in college I learned another hard lesson about the ritual of the sport. At a UCLA game one Saturday I attended with a first time date and made the horrid mistake of wearing a red sweater. Little did I know that NO ONE wears red to a UCLA football game (or they didn't back then in the early 60's). As my date and I made our way to our seats in the bleachers I began to hear chanting that grew in intensity and sounded scarier by the second. "Take off that red dress" was screamed at me by the several thousand participants in the audience. From what I could gather once my hearing was restored to normal, it had to do with the color scheme of a rival school and how one was considered extremely disloyal and traitorous if one wore the color red. As I grew older, got married and had children, Super Bowl Sunday became the day for my home to fill with sweaty teenage boys and men. They ate, screamed, swore and destroyed my otherwise clean house and I was told that this was normal and that I should just go along with the mayhem. After all I was told, "It's only one day a year....." Now it's just my husband and me and I no longer have to hide at the Mall or in a bedroom for hours on end while the noise levels penetrated everything that I attempted to do to drown them out. It's quiet here on Super Bowl Sunday and I even had to remind my husband that the game was on tomorrow. He had no idea who was playing and when he found out he had no real enthusiasm since neither team is a favorite. He is a Raiders, San Francisco Forty-Niners, Arizona Cardinals fan and if one of those teams had been scheduled to play I'm sure that he would have been far more enthusiastic. Truth be told, I doubt that he'll ever get to see the Arizona Cardinal's play in a Super Bowl because to put it mildly...they suck. Despite a very expensive and weird looking new state of the art stadium that we tax payers built for those losers, they can't seem to win. Tomorrow I will once again remind my husband that it's game day and I will remain in the bedroom far from the sound of boring announcers, screaming fans and silly commercials that somehow, seem to have eclipsed the game itself as of late. I will be happy to miss the horrid half-time show and the endless game that only comes "one day a year", but seems to last for an eternity. To those of you rooting for a particular team I wish you luck. To those of you attending a party I remind you not to drink and drive afterward (or while you run out to the store for that extra beer). I'll think of all of you as I ignore the entire process as I have done for several decades!! To the wives, girlfriends and others who feel as I do....remember..."It's only one day a year" ------------ About the author: Meri has a Medical/Legal background and is a former forensic researcher specializing in psychological profiling. https://www2.xlibris.com/bookstore/bookdisplay.asp?bookid=27335 Email: writers2@cox.net Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com. Please link to this article rather than copying and pasting it onto your site (which would be unauthorized and illegal). |
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