Bedlam in a leaky bucket…

I've been sort of dreading today.  Every year the two major state universities meet on the gridiron to fight it out for their annual bragging rights.  One of those rather meaningless things really, but it happens every year, and this year it's here.  Ok, the idea of going out to find a burger is not an option, not today. It's bedlam out there.

I really have no gripe with the boys playing ball, no different from the young bucks out knocking horns so the does can decide who they want to father next years fawn.  It isn't the ball game that bothers me, it's the attitude of the fans.  Good grief folks, it's a ball game, hope it's a good game, hope someone wins, hope no one gets hurt.  But the fervor and hype is so totally and terribly overblown.  I liked playing sports at first, at least until the time I saw genuine bloodlust on a fan's face. 

I was a receiver, had good hands but not quite fast enough to play wide so I usually ended up the target if the quarterback got in trouble and needed to dump the ball off (that or downfield blocking for a halfback).  Anyhow, the play was deep and on the far side of the field, the guy chasing me had realized I was just a decoy, he'd turned to look and I spun to be watching the quarterback.  As I turned I saw him, the fan who put an end to the idea of sports as a good thing... red faced and screaming, murder in his eyes.  It shocked me, it did.  As it turned out the deep man was covered like a blanket, the other boys were breaking through the pocket, the quarterback chunked the ball at me, overthrew it actually.  I went vertical to catch it, full leap, and of course got totally hammered, body slammed. 

I hung onto the ball, it was a first down.  But when the stars went away I could still see the maniacs face, I could feel what sports was all about.  That was the point I said fuck football. What was on that man's face was evil, raw, no good for no one.  No way in hell I'm gonna be any part of that, the last time I'd seen that look it was on the face of a Chicano knife fighter who really wanted to kill someone.  If I've got to deal with that sort of thing it will be full war in righteous cause where I can shoot the father fucker before he sees me, not this made up bullshit to help the hypocrites of the establishment maintain their façade.  I was a duty child in those days, living with an uncle who happened to be the coach, as far as he was concerned football was a gift from God, and I do thank God for small favors... I got to move on a few weeks later and didn't have to argue with him about not going out the next season. 

It's not the game that bothers me, it's the fans who live on reflected glory that I don't like.  So needless to say, I'll be staying home today.  My town is at 300% overload with exactly the kind of people I like least.