I haven't been much of a football fan for years. I think the last time I followed a football team with any sort of ardor, Steve Bartkowski was the quarterback.
It is therefore mildly annoying to be dwelling someplace where you can't fricking escape the stuff; TeeWee news covers The Colts, politics, business, The Colts, weather, traffic, The Colts, and sports. The local catbox liner is much the same, with a slightly heavier emphasis on the Colts.
I am given to understand that the Colts lost the Super Bowl last evening.
I am given to understand this because I had to wait for them to interview everybody down to the water boy's third cousin's dog about how they felt about the game before they got around to the trivial news items, like the blizzard that's coming this way or the apartment building that burned to the ground nearby. (Which explains the helicopters orbiting overhead last night.)
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It may be even worse down here in Saintsland. I mean I'm happy for the Saints, their fans, and all of N.O. But between the bowl win and Mardi Gras spinning up, the victory party won't stop until sometime next Wednesday morning. And it's going to have a whole new gloss of insufferability this year.
OTOH, this mostly puts the stake into Katrina as the default topic of conversation. That alone will make putting up with the happy drunks for the next week worthwhile.
The Romans had bread and circuses.
We have beer and football.
But at least it has been determined which group of 11 people we don't know can move a ball back and forth across a field better than another group of 11 people we don't know.
Like I mentioned to Jay, instead of being glued to the tube, I went and played with an ex-commie lesbian instead. http://uncommondenominators.blogspot.com/. Way more fun.
You've just summed up why I don't use TV news for anything except white noise: If I want to find out about something, I don't want to do it on someone else's schedule.
Never could understand the fascination of watching football. Basically you spend several hours watching a bunch of big guys alternately bend over in a circle, and then kick a dead pig across the lawn.
To paraphrase someone else's joke, it's a bunch of buff guys running around in satin pants. Why wouldn't I want to watch that?
Ah, the tribal warfare's ritual combat is over for another year.
I wish I'd recorded the first ten minutes of gunshots in the air mixed with the odd firework in celebration last night - it was a truly impressive level of stupid.
Given the tribe here won, I expect to see them remarking their vehicles, houses, food, bodies, dogs, and children with the mystic numbers, fleur de li, and black and gold colors - while crying out the ritual phrases "Who dat?" and "Geaux Saints!"
As I point out, the best news of this particular Superbowl is The Won's team lost. Other than that, I really don't give a crap.
When did I last pay attention to a football game? When did I last wear a band uniform? Both questions have the same answer.
Y'know, in that Tom Clancy novel, where the Mohammedans nuke the Stuporbowl? I felt sorry for the poor dead bandsmen when I first read that, until I found out that they no longer have bands. Then I thought, "Ok, that's all right, then."
WV: wingless. Sports enthusiast considered as a fly, after I have my way with him.
Heh, I remember Steve Bartkowski. That was in Atlanta's "mad bomber" days, and he had a great arm. The Pro Bowl in 1980 was practically a matchup of quarterback archetypes: Bartkowski for the vertical game, and the AFC's Brian Sipe (Kardiac Kids!) for the dink-and-dunk school.
Hey, somebody in this thread has to stick up for football. ;-)
Right.
Football: 30 seconds between snaps, or 5 yards for every 30 seconds thereafter.
Baseball: 30 seconds between pitches, or he gets his base.
Hockey: 30 seconds to drop the puck after the whistle, or mandatory goalie fight.
There. Fixed them all.
Jim
Ah, the tribal warfare's ritual combat is over for another year.
We only wish.
Five months, tops.
Now that the Saints have won a game, I can go back to not giving a $%^&* about football.
Pitchers and catchers report in 10 days and 15 hours. Not that I'm counting...
Pitchers and catchers report in 10 days and 15 hours.
When the @*!!&$ Dolans finally sell the Indians to someone what can afford to run a ball club, I will allow myself to care again. In the meantime, we're just watching to see if Travis Hafner can ring up enough stats for the WWE to want him when his $52 million contract is finally up.
The life story of a lifelong Indians fan: Wave bye-bye to C.C. Sabathia, Cliff Lee, and Victor Martinez in the space of two seasons, so they can overpay Hafner. Next up: Grady Sizemore for half a can of Desenex and an old fungo bat someone used to hit rocks.
No, I'm not bitter. Not at all.
STEVE BARTKOWSKI, STEVE BARTKOWSKI, I wonder if you remember Bob Lee that suck ass transfer from the Vickings?
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