I came to the realization the other day that I actually like watching football.
This came as quite a shock to me. I’ve spent the past 27 years ignoring all forms of professional sports: basketball, baseball, football — you name it, I ignored it.
But there I was on Sunday, watching the Super Bowl along with 97 million other Americans, cheering on the Giants in their 17-14 upset of the Patriots.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still nowhere near completely understanding this game. I couldn’t tell you the difference between a linebacker and a fullback. But it’s a far cry from where I used to be.
For years, football to me was just the thing that invaded the television set every fall, forcing me to watch my shows on the cable-less TV in the basement while my brother watched the game from the comfort of the living room. (This was in the days before American families had a TV in every nook and cranny of the house.)
Football was the annoying noise distracting me from whatever book I had my nose buried in at the time.
And it wasn’t just football that inconvenienced me. I remember my brother and I frequently brawling over who got the remote control during the NBA playoffs. He usually won.
I just didn’t have that knack for sports knowledge that seems almost innate in most men I know. My brother can rattle off statistics on teams at the drop of a hat. I can rattle off statistics on U2, my favorite band, like nobody’s business, but somehow that rarely comes up in conversation.
Most of what I’ve learned over the years I picked up while working next to the sports desk at my college newspaper and later at the Times-Standard, the oldest daily newspaper in Eureka, Calif. Listening to my friends Erik and Brad, the resident sports guys, talk about the games, I at least had some idea of what was going on and started to become interested in the local high school match ups.
Then this past fall, I unwittingly found myself in downtown Seattle on game day, walking around amidst hundreds of Seahawks fans dressed in their best blue and green. Their excitement was contagious and I almost wished that I, too, was heading into Qwest Field. The next day I picked up the sports section to see if Seattle had won and I was happy to see that they had.
As the season progressed, I still didn’t watch the Seahawks play, but only because I didn’t want my late-season interest to screw up the team’s karma. I’m seen as kind of a sports jinx in my family — according to my brother, it’s my fault the Yankees lost the World Series in 2001. Sorry if you had any money riding on that one. I made him miss the start of Game 6 on TV, apparently causing the team to go into a downward spiral they’ve never completely recovered from.
Now that football season’s over, however, I’m looking forward to next season, when I can watch the games guilt-free.
Who knows? Maybe you’ll even see me at Qwest Field one of these days.
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