Shnarflephucks. It snuck up on me. It’s f’ing football
season again. Drat and dangnations, the first game of the season is here. And
it’s here in town. Have no idea who the local boys are playing, usually it’s
arranged for the first game or two to be against lesser powers of the gridiron,
just a chance for those who play for the major schools to shake out the bugs
and get in a good warm up before the first serious challenge shows up.
The funny thing is I really don’t mind the game, not a bad
game as such things go. Come the end of the season, when everyone is beat to
splinters and it’s heroes and dead men out on the field I’ll even watch a game
or two to see the rookies who step up to fill the cleats of the fallen, and
pull it off… see the teamwork and the dedication to defending momma’s honor and
glory to the triumphant… or bitter… end. Those “on any given Saturday” kind of
games where the bookies don’t make any more money than those placing the bets.
I’ll watch a few of those. But what I won’t do is try and
live on reflected glory like the idiotic fans. I’ve never done that, never have
never will. The days of mandatory pep rallies while incarcerated in the halls
of indoctrination (aka, High School) pretty well showed that up for what it’s
worth, which is nada. Sorry Mr. Establishment mirror man, no sale.
I understand a little what drives the players, because it's what drives me as a musician: the drive to play the best game we can. But the fans who quote statistics and rosters and curse any player who makes a "bad" play, I want to tell them, Go out and play yourself if you can do better. Pfui.
ReplyDeleteYup. Monday morning quaterbacks and arm-chair generals. Two of humanity's not so appealing subsets.
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