Hello, my name is Gary, and I am a football junkie. Every September comes and surrounds me in the bliss of football. I feel healthy and I am eating right. I am indeed in shape and trim. You see, the NFL offseason is my on-season. I spend February through August working out and dieting until D-Day comes and kickoffs are imminent.
My opening day tradition is simple: I get up early and I take a long walk. I envision big hits and stingers. I take a deep breath and say to myself, "Ah, you can just smell the football in the air." I call all my friends hours before they normally awake to kill their day: "Can you smell it?" I ask. "Can you smell the football in the air?" They usually hang up. Sometimes, they call the mental hospital and I miss some pre-game. That really annoys me.
By Thanksgiving, my addiction is getting the best of me. Nightly after dinner walks are replaced by episodes of "NFL Live". Instead of homemade spicy green beans for dinner, I'm ordering the finest New Jersey Pizza (with extra cheese) you can find in Austin. Why? Well, because "NFL Matchup" is coming on and I don't have time to cook anymore.
Occasionally, reality will bring pangs of discontent and I think "What am I doing? Surely, I could be helping my kid with homework or paying some attention to my wife, and geez, would it kill me to do a load of laundry?" Eventually, I cave and come to the conclusions that hell, terrorist alerts go from green to orange constantly, and quality family time comes and goes like a sober Dick Van Dyke on St. Patrick's Day. Watching Randy Moss mime a moon ... well, action like that only happens once a generation.
After Christmas as I watch the players introduce themselves on Monday Night Football, I lament that the season is just about over. I breathe the morose sigh of a National Guardsman watching the Presidential Inauguration and hope that the last few weeks of the season will at least be full of playoff dramas.
By the way, why is there a bye week before the Super Bowl? I think the NFL has a week off to help people like me adapt to months without the game. I now have two days in a row off to fill each weekend. It is like having another day added to the week. The Super Bowl follows Black Hole Sunday, it soothes, heals, and provides. The big game is one last drag, one last taste of grizzle before the cholesterol test.
Then, as quick as Brian Bosworth's career, it's all over. There's that sigh again. Champions are crowned, awards are won. Until training camp action in mid-July, all that's left is firings, hirings, signings, and the draft. Well, it's not top shelf, but you'll still find me at the bar ordering a double with no ice. It doesn't go down as smooth, but I'll gladly have a drink.
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