We’re Up In Arms About What?

I don’t even think it’s necessary to qualify this story as the entire country is only talking about one thing.  Still. Since Monday.  It’s Thursday.  Indeed, I’m throwing my two cents into the Replacement-ref-mageddon.  This crisis must be met with strong social media activity, swift criticism from non-football players and the intelligence that typically surrounds any sporting event after much beer has been consumed.  And I understand why we’re still angered and engaging in such vitriolic conversation.  It’s not like the housing market is doing anything newsworthy.  *checks smartphone for CNN breaking news* Oh, prices rose sharply in the housing market.  Hmm.  Ok, but that’s all.  I mean, nothing else is going on in the world and we’re all healthy and safe.  *checks npr.org*  New Sars-like virus emerges in Middle East.  Oh.  I mean, there’s no need to pay attention to this story because it’s waaayyyy overseas.  A virus like that can’t travel west and eventually jump across the pond.  So yeah, really that one referee thought Tate was in full possession of the football and didn’t see him push off his defender?!?  *reads news crawl* The General Assembly of the United Nations is convening.  Topics to be discussed included countering nuclear terrorism.  Well that deserves my attention.  But y’all carry on right after I present the best award for caring far too much about sh*t concerning folks who make millions; I have a newspaper to read. *reads front page* The NFL and its locked-out referees have reached agreement on a contract that will return the officials to the field.  Welp… *turns page*

-nah

Are You Ready for Some Football?

Are you ready for some football?  American football, that is.  It is, in fact, the first sport in which I fell in love.  Some of my favorite Sunday afternoons were spent rooting my beloved San Francisco 49ers to victory in the cold ass good ol’ Stick, Candlestick Park.  Not 3M Park or San Francisco Stadium.  Neither Dot-com Park nor Monster Park.  The Stick.  There was never a dull second throughout the 60 minute contest.  I was mesmerized by the agility of a Roger Craig running back, the precision of a Joe Montana quarterback, the speed of a Jerry Rice wide receiver and the foresight of a safety Ronnie Lott as they collectively pursued the advancement of the oblong ball into the opponent’s end zone.  The tomboy in me would attempt to recreate those highlights with my brother and dad and hell, all the rest of the boys in the neighborhood.

The love I hold for my beloved San Francisco 49ers continues to stand the test of time.  Yes, even when we went 2 – 14 in the 2004 season.  Diehard still.  However, my love for the sport has waned.  It’s neither the copious amounts of money spent on new stadiums, like the $1.2 billion slated to build those same beloved 49ers a new one (couldn’t we feed some hungry and house some homeless?!?), nor the ever changing rules that have evolved the quarterback position into a, well non-football player (they might as well put a bubble around them to ensure no injury befalls him).  It is, however, difficult to maintain the same level of enthusiasm knowing that the movements that incited oohs and aahs in the younger me are resulting in life-damaging concussions.  Sure, each sport brings with it a level of danger that may result in game-ending, season-ending and maybe career-ending injury.  But life-ending?!?  When some of my football heroes of years past have chosen to end their lives in order to will their brains to researchers for extensive study, it’s time to put the foam finger down.  Research is finding that the very game that brings such excitement to its fans is equally pernicious to its players.

Am I ready for some football? Eh.  Will I celebrate another 49er winning season capped with a Super Bowl victory?  Indeed.

The Stick!
photo courtesy of The Harrises of Chicago

-nah