OK. I guess I've become enough of a blogger that I'm airing all my dirty little secrets online now.
It started when I was in high school. Since fifth grade I played the clarinet, and in the Marina High School marching band that meant I had to attend every football game of the season. The daughter of immigrant Indian parents, I never became part of the American football culture--or even learned how the game was played. But, when the decision lay between spending hours bored and confused every Friday night or figuring it out, I figured it out. Plus the cute boys actually liked the game, and liked explaining it to me. You know, ooooo, a girl interested in sports! So I learned. And I liked it.
My colleges were football voids--Barnard relied on Columbia (yippee! Ivy League football players!) and UCSB had to fall back to UCLA or Cal, depending on which end of the state we came from.
Post college, I became a UCLA fan for sports in general, given that I don't have an alum football team and I really did grow to love football.
Also, I had a psycho boyfriend a couple of years after college. He was a sports addict. He had fantasy football teams and fantasy basketball teams. He was supposed to have played college basketball but "because of an ankle injury in high school" he didn't end up getting recruited like he "was supposed to." The only vacation time he took was during March Madness--so that he could watch all of the college basketball games while sitting on the couch in the apartment and watching the television. During football season, it was all football all the time. High school, college, professional. Monday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. The only thing I had going for me was summertime, during which watching sports was traded in for surfing--daily. He called me skinny-fat and only drank non-fat milk and ate fat-free crap and he worked out everyday. All of this sounds very potentially sexy, if you like emotional and mental abuse and being degraded for being yourself despite being less than 120 lb. and still being called any form of fat...
But somehow while I still carry a resentful hatred for college basketball (but love the professional Lakers, whom I grew up watching from 1980 onward.... the days of Kareem and Magic and that amazing final against the Celtics....) and despise March madness, I love watching football. I know which way the ball is going and why, I recognize the teams, I have favorites (granted, based on the location of my friends, former students and certain team members) in college and professional football, and yesterday I spent all day watching the games. Today, I am bummed because we don't have cable and so we don't have Monday night football which is only shown on ESPN. Unfortunately, I am too sick to wrap my head around sitting in a bar and so I'll have to go without my football fix for the day.
Yesterday though, yesterday was one of those blissful secret days of love and laziness. Since we don't have cable, on Sunday all we had to watch was football. Since I did not have any energy to get further from the bed than the couch, I got to watch football all day long. No, I don't remember what the scores were or even which teams played (though I do know the San Diego teams lost in football and baseball).
Anyway, I can't really believe I am blogging about my relationship with football, but I am actually sick and actually tired, so there we go.
Football is for lovers. :)