Football

The other part of Thanksgiving

Yesterday while I was working/volunteering on Thanksgiving I had conversations with numerous people. (It is one of the things I like about volunteering to work on Thanksgiving.) About half of the people I talked with were female and half were male.

The conversations with the females centered around food, cooking, and kids. I found these discussions to be quite delightful. I can’t shut up when it comes to food, cooking and my two delightful little granddaughters.

One of the first males I spoke with went on and on about corn-huskers and not until he used the word, ‘touchdown,’ did I realize that he was talking about football. I thought he was talking about farmers.

Every subsequent male that I spoke with felt it necessary to bring up the subject of football. Despite my gender, to me Thanksgiving has always been about food and cooking…. and kids. Not until I speak with males do I remember that other aspect of Thanksgiving; football.

The last time I watched a football game on TV was the first week of January, 1979. Yup, it’s been almost 37 years since I’ve watched a football game.

If my memory serves me correctly it was a game between the Dallas Cowboys and the Pittsburgh Steelers. I could be wrong. I really wasn’t watching the game very closely. After all, I rather abhor football. Perhaps the reason I think it was those two teams is because my father grew up in Pittsburgh and my first ex-wife was from Texas and worshiped the Dallas Cowboys.

While watching that football game I happened to be sitting on my first ex-wife’s couch while she was in the next room with her boyfriend. I think the only reason the game was on the TV was to provide noise so that I wouldn’t hear what was going on in the next room. I was sitting on her couch while waiting for my ride to show up to take me to the Baltimore airport. I had an airline ticket in my pocket for a flight later in the afternoon that would take me westward to my freedom. I have no earthly idea who won that football game because, thankfully, my ride showed up before the end of the game.

But I digress….

Fast-forwarding almost 37 years to a Thanksgiving Day afternoon here in the little Bible-belt town in which I live I reacted to all the males I spoke with yesterday by simply nodding my head and saying, “Yeah.” With their football talk they may as well have been speaking Greek.

After I first moved here to Jesus and Football Country almost six years ago and a male I was speaking with would commence talking football I would put up my hand and say, “I don’t do football.” I don’t do that anymore. I just nod and say, “Yeah.”

Back when I said, “I don’t do football,” the men would screw up their faces, looking at me like I had some sort of horrific disease. One man responded, “What? Are you a queer?” Another said, “Don’t tell me you’re one of those liberal commies who hate America.” Most of the men responded to my blasphemy with questions. How can you not like football? You’re American aren’t you? You have a beard and some chest hairs poking up out of your t-shirt so you’re obviously male so why don’t you do football? Were you raised in some foreign country? Didn’t you ever go to school here in America? What the hell is wrong with you?

So nowadays when males start talking football at me I just nod my head and say, “Yeah.” It just makes everything easier.

Yes, I went to school in America and I learned how to play American football. Yes, I liked the excitement of a stadium packed full of people. And yes, I liked the cheerleaders; especially that one really cute one who repeatedly said no every time I asked her out. Being in the high school marching band, I attended way, way, way more football games than I ever care to admit. Heck, I even attended an NFL game in San Diego once. And yes, I occasionally watched football games on TV.

But that was over 37 years ago. Even back then when I attended and watched football games I didn’t even like football! But I watched because that was expected of me. I wanted to fit in.

But the more I watched, the more grossed out I became. Football is a bunch of fat, sweaty men tackling and groping one another, fighting for a stupid ball. How insane! The stench of the out-of-control testosterone was unbearable. And I quickly realized that football is what America uses to prime its youth for war. I have been an extreme pacifist since birth and to watch the glorification of violence was just too much for me.

And then, at the overly-ripe age of 19 I married a Texas girl who, it turned out, was an even more ardent football fan than most men. We got married in the off-season and I didn’t learn this until after we were hitched. What a huge turn off! What a profound disappointment. Was I supposed to spend a lifetime nodding and saying, “Yeah,” to my wife? Would we have to spend Thanksgivings apart?

So that first week of January in 1979, after watching my last football game, I boarded a jetliner in Baltimore. As the plane took off and headed west I instantly felt lighter. I left the wife behind never to see her again and I also released all football from my life, never to watch it or play it again.

Of course I left a lot of other things behind but that was the defining moment when I flushed football from my life. I would never “do football” ever again.

And I feel that my life has been a lot happier for having given up football. Sure, there are some minor inconveniences; like talking to males on Thanksgiving….

…. but I just nod my head and say, “Yeah.”

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