You know, Daddy’s not much of a football guy. Another reason that I find myself on the fringe of society in this country. Some could say it comes from my feminine side. So that makes Super Bowl week an incredibly alienating experience. I could care less about all of the coverage. For an entire week, all other sports are turned down and all sportscasters dedicate a full week of broadcast (TV, radio, internet) to one game. The offenses, the defenses, the controversies, the field, the weather, the kickoff returners, the quarterbacks, the quarterbacks’ personal lives, Brett Favre, Brett Favre, turnovers, the combined turnover differential, the pace of the game, the legacies, the legends, the pocket, the ability of each quarterback to work out of the pocket, the two guys “on that defense that make it go.” Grown men with microphones spend an entire week of their lives wiggling with excitement as Super Sunday approaches and, in most cases, they’re not even fans of the teams playing.
I understand that they’re only giving the people what they want. The people want coverage and they’re giving it to them. And here’s my point…you don’t find a lot of women out there talking about Sunday. Refreshing the other day to hear my lovely wife ask innocently while we cooked dinner, “So who’s playing in the Super Bowl?” Like music to my ears. Oblivious to all of the exhaustive coverage. Deaf to the white noise of men in all of their senseless fandom talking about all the individual matchups, players’ abilities under pressure, “if it comes down to a minute to go and the length of the field…”
My lovely wife doesn’t even have a clue who’s playing.
It’s just sports. It’s entertainment. And I say this as a person who is recovering from an addiction. A four-month old helps in that recovery. I missed almost all of August and September of the baseball season out of necessity. Sure, I know the Celtics are playing the Mavs tonight, but it’s behind about four other things that I have on my list tonight. Three of which involve my lovely wife and beautiful Ellison.
Guys are such addictive animals when it comes to sports. That’s not to say that girls aren’t susceptible, but it’s rare. I know girls who watch sports. Robin’s a huge Kansas City Chiefs fan. Her dedication to that team is unquestionable. Undeniable. She owns a uniform. If there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she’s a Chiefs fan. If they were in the Super Bowl, she’d be losing her freaking mind right now. But largely, women don’t get so wrapped up in sports and thank God for that. I’ve heard more about Ben Roethlisberger and Aaron Rodgers this week than I have about Egypt exploding in a freaking civil war. The silliness of men and their sports addictions comes to a head this week. Everything else under the sun takes a backseat for even the most minuscule and meaningless detail of the “big game” take the front seat. And, it’s not just football. Turn on any MMA, Nascar, basketball, baseball, hockey, lacrosse, golf, bowling, billiards and even largely tennis…mostly men talking about men playing sports. And, for Super Sunday, if you don’t want to watch the Black Eyed Peas halftime show, you can tune into the pay-per-view of the eighth installment of the Lingerie Bowl where women in lingerie participate in a exhibition football game for millions of gawking men who actually pay out of pocket for fifteen minutes of skinful glory.
This day is for men.
Girls don’t care (as much). Girls don’t play fantasy sports (as much). Girls don’t own socks or underwear in their teams’ colors (as much). Girls are cool because the big game doesn’t matter.