I just went to my first football game. Ever.
Now that your shock has subsided a bit (I know, it’s amazing that a gay, overweight, counterculture gamer-geek should make it to adulthood without going, right? such a shocker), I’ll go on.
I’ve been to many a baseball event (go Mariners, Rah, Rah, etc.), and… well… there wasn’t anything there to pull me in. In short, it’s golf for Nascar fans; inbred and testosterone pumped, but dull and lifeless just the same.
I nearly lost my sanity at the football game. It was Seahawks v. Lions, home game for the hawks.
In just the first quarter it was 17-0 Lions, my left ear was almost permanently deaf from my asshole seat-neighbor, who came alone and insisted on yelling “gooooo hawks…” at five second intervals (although it always sounded like he was saying, “go Hannn” … I wondered if he might be talking about one of the players for a while), my rear was aching from the uncomfortable chair, my back was in pain, my lips were chapped, there wasn’t a smoking area in the entire place (and if you leave after kickoff you can’t come back in), I couldn’t find a water fountain to save my life, and I had been subjected to enough pro-armed forces propaganda to make even Goebbels go, alright! enough, already!
I was in love.
There was a magic and energy to everything that happened. Even when we were losing, the crowd would roar support and encouragement, and the team seemed to thrive on it… as if the whole 12th man bull really were true.
I was kept on the edge of my seat right up until the time we left, when the score was 22-17, Seahawks. My dad looked at me, and said,”They’ve got it in the bag. Let’s go.”
As we were waiting at 5th and Jackson for our bus, some ten blocks or so from the stadium, we kept hearing the susurrus of cheering, loud as an ocean wave from the tide-line.
My dad and I heard on the bus that the Hawks had won handily, by an eight point difference, at 33-25 final score.
I’m still not a big fan of sports in general, especially on television.
And if you have baseball or basketball tickets, you can find someone else to go with.
But if you want to go lose your mind at a football game…
I don’t care who’s playing who.
I don’t care what level it’s at.