Football...

Football has never really meant anything to me. Yes, I grew up in the south but my parents never instilled in me a passion for the game. In high school, I went to a few high school football games. But my school's team wasn't that great and I just cheered when everyone else stood up with their hands in the air in the shape of a U. Or better known as a touchdown in the world of football fans. So I grew up knowing that football existed. Knowing that lots of boys prided themselves in their football capabilities (or rather, incapabilities at my high school). But I assumed that was part of their newly found testosterone raging in their systems. They wanted to be manly and strong like most men still do. :) Really, I never found that gut feeling. I never felt the inkling of a desire to cry after another lost game. To me, football was a game. A somewhat silly game with a bunch of men piling on each other and seeming to get nothing achieved.

Then I went to college. I went to college at a small school north of the Mason-Dixen. Our football team was not the cream of the crop. I went to games to support the players that I knew but I found myself in a similar situation. I'd cheer when everyone else cheered but I had no idea what was really happening. Here, I would like to point out that I am not a stupid person. I knew nothing of football because no one had ever told me about it and because I'd never asked to know more. Why? Because I thought the game was silly. Keep up.

But, I guess, my fate was to care just a little bit about this game that keeps bartenders in business throughout the fall. I went to school with this cute boy who must of thought I was pretty cute myself. He swept me off my feet and we dated for a few months. Yes, it fizzled eventually and then I graduated. But I credit him for my initial interest in football. We'll give him a code name.... Ethan derived from Hebrew, meaning "strong." Ethan was one of the most caring people I've ever met and he loved his football. After painfully enduring the first game we watched together, I decided that maybe it was a good idea for me to make use of my football aficionado. And so began my training. Ethan would draw pictures and answer my ignorant questions. After graduation, I still had a lot to learn. I started working in a city with a NFL team. Various individuals continued to cultivate my meager knowledge. Though, still, I did not have that passion for the game.

I dated another person for a short time and he lived and breathed football. If "his" (no actual financial ownership) team lost a game, it ruined the rest of his day. I thought that was a little ridiculous. After all, to me, it was still a silly game. In all games,a someone has to win and someone has to lose. That passion was not something that I could learn nor was I really sure that I wanted to have it. But I think last night was the closest I've come to actually caring about a game. I stayed awake to watch the Rose Bowl. I still have a lot to learn about football but I feel pretty confident that even I can say that it was a pretty electrifying game.


Various UT football players were crying. They have that passion for the game. It is something that drives them. Something that is a part of their lives like writing is a part of mine. They were proud of their success. They'd "edited" and "re-edited" throughout the game and then finally came out with the desired finished product. They were proud.

So hook 'em horns and to all you football lovers, I may learn to appreciate your passion after all. ;)