Monday, September 6, 2010

Football

A lot of people I know give me surprised looks when they find out that I'm a football fan. I guess that's because classical musicians (well, at least classical string players at any rate - brass players are a different breed) don't tend to watch much in the way of sports, let alone American football. And yet, I've been a football fan most of my life.

The first football game I can remember watching was the Redskins/Bills Super Bowl in 1992. I actually had to go look up what year that was, but I guess that meant that I was eight years old at the time. For some reason I was cheering for the Bills. I think it's because I liked their bright blue and orange uniforms. Also, it may be that, through some coincidence, they were the team I ended up watching through the playoffs, as opposed to their counterpart.

I definitely have to credit my father with sparking my interest in football. He always had the games on on Sundays, although until that specific year I don't recall if I ever noticed. He always had a lot to say about the games that I didn't understand; he'd call "holding" on plays where no flags were thrown by the refs, or talk about "poor coverage" (he still never seems to notice "good coverage"). To this day, we always watch football together when I come home, of course provided that it's football season.

Further cementing my interest was the fact that a few years later, two Wisconsin teams ascended to the top of the sport, the Badgers making the 1994 Rose Bowl and the Packers making the Super Bowl twice, in 1997 and 1998. Kids who had never talked about football before were suddenly obsessing over the sport, and for the first time I actually knew the names and positions of various players who weren't the quarterback.

I always relish the start of football season, even during years (like last year) where I haven't had consistent access to a television. Even without seeing the games, one can follow them through various sports writers, and read about all the on- and off-field drama. I know it doesn't really mean anything, and I know it's just a bunch of overpaid mammoth prima donnas trying to maul one another for the chance to carry an oddly-shaped ball over a white line, or perhaps kick it through an over-sized tuning fork. I get that. And I still love it.

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