Those that know me are laughing at the title of this blog. I am, for the most part, sports aloof. I’ve never been one to follow teams. I don’t understand football. Nor do I care to understand football. I am proud that I am not a bandwagon fan. Meaning, when the Seahawks started doing well I didn’t suddenly become a 12. I didn’t buy a jersey. I didn’t buy a flag or a sticker for my car. I don’t dress for the weekly “Blue Friday.” You gotta give me props for that, even if you think I suck for not being a fan.
That being said, when the husband said he had been offered UW vs. Oregon tickets for last night I agreed to go. Why? Well, for a couple of reasons: the tickets belong to the CEO of the company he works for, which means they’re in the Club section, which means they’re under cover and squishy. Second, the husband is a college football fan. And, it’s rather fun to go sit in a stadium with a bunch of people going out of their minds over a game. And there are always cocktails and food that’s bad for you.
The game was at 7:30 last night. Close to my bed time. And I have a cold. So, I took an afternoon nap and swallowed a bunch of cold medication and off we went. We elected to catch one of the special game-day buses that run out of the Federal Way Park-n-Ride. We’re familiar with some areas of Seattle, but not so much the U District. I did some poking around and gleaned that parking in that area can be…challenging (read: nightmarish). The husband and I were talking this morning and agreed it was the smartest thing we could have done. Wandering around an unfamiliar area, particularly a city, trying to find parking or a particular store, can be a….well…trigger point for us. Meaning, an argument often ensues. We avoided an argument last night simply by going to the park-n-ride. Aren’t we smart?
The bus dropped us right across from the stadium with lots of time to spare. We wandered a bit before heading to the big tailgate area set up to the side of the stadium. Meaning: food and drink and fans that occasionally erupt into garbled chants. Husband got a beer, I got a whiskey-based cocktail to help with the cold and we stood in the drizzle chatting. The morning of the game I checked the weather and was promised a 4% chance of rain. The weatherman lied…again. That seems to happen a lot around here. But, again, we were under cover. And it only drizzled during the first quarter or so.
We eventually mosied up to Club Husky, got some food and found our seats. Kick-off happened. I tried to watch the ball. Which doesn’t make a lot of sense, since I don’t understand football. The problem with watching a game live (versus all of those times that I watch football on tv…because I’m such a fan) is that the camera isn’t following the ball for me and showing me where it’s at. Half the time I don’t know where the ball is until all of the players fall down in a big dog pile. Then it’s like, “Ohhh….that’s where the ball is.”
There is one sport that I actually kind of like. Enough to go to multiple games every year. And I have a jersey (which makes me feel cool when I wear it to a game). But, not enough to watch it on tv. Soccer. There are a number of reasons why I like soccer: first, the fans are passionate and rowdy in a different way than football fans. A more fun way than football fans. I don’t know how to explain it. They’re just more fun, in my opinion. Second: the game is easy to follow. The rules aren’t voluminous and obscure. And they don’t have three dozen people on the field hiding the ball. The ball stays close to the ground, no hands involved…so much easier to track. Third: they play the full 90…and it’s over. Those skinny, fast, super-athletic guys go out there (and many of them play the entire game, unlike the football field which appears to be an ever-revolving door of players) and run their asses off for 45 minutes, get a 15 minute break and run their asses off for another 45 minutes. They don’t have time outs. The clock doesn’t stop every 20 seconds. The game is quick. They rock. They do have their drama. A soccer player can be barely tapped by someone on the opposing team and he’ll fall to the ground and roll around in apparent agonizing pain. When a yellow card is not dropped, he makes a miraculous recovery and gingerly gets up, limps a couple of steps and then returns to normal. Because the clock hasn’t stopped. And his team needs to score.
Football would be well-served by a clock that doesn’t stop. Light a fire under those boys. A little pep in their step. Because no game needs to last three hours. It just doesn’t. We got home at midnight last night. If we had gone to a Sounders game we would have been home over an hour earlier. But, we had fun. Who won? I dunno.
Okay. I do. The ducks won. It was a tough game for me. Do I root for the team from my home state that I despise or do I root for the team from the state that is now my home that I don’t really care about? It was a tough decision. For someone who doesn’t really care about football to begin with. I almost lost some sleep over it. Almost.
The Seahawks play at 1pm today. Sounds like a perfect time to go to the grocery store.