| Another college football season is done, and though Penn State has finally made me a happy little camper, I am also quite distraught because, well, I now have to be content with University of Hawaii baseball to feed the sports fan hiding somewhere in my mind. Clearly, as a Nittany Lion fan, I have not had much to cheer about for years, but now, January finds me celebrating the victory of JoePa over arch nemesis Bowden and his ethnically incorrect Floridian pussies, but it all leaves me with little to look forward to for the spring.
Even here on the island, we have battle lines drawn as autumn’s gridiron exercises are beamed to us, and considering the local alternative, most haoles resort to the team they followed on the mainland. This year was no exception, and I even had the chance to sport my navy and white and rant against the scarlet and gray--or as I like to call them, the “fuckeyes"--and there were people here to oppose me with their Central Ohioan preferences. At the same time, we would all join together to watch with glee as the Rainbow Warriors got yet another good, stout ass whoopin’.
But, as I said, it has all ended--and now we in the Aloha State look for other venues that allow us to consume quantities of beer and demonstrate our prowess in the arena of the great sport of “Discussing Games In Which We Played No Part But If We Had Played We Would Have Done Something Entirely Different That Would Have Resulted In A Win For Our Team Because, By God, We In The Stands And At Home Know Far Better Than Those Overpaid Pretty Boys On The Field How To Win A Game Of Ball.”
But I digress. I was intending to express my gratitude to the Big Ten and ESPN for televising at least one game every weekend so that I did not have to drown in a sea of the WAC or the PAC10 or whoever the hell else plays west of the Mississippi. And this epistle of thanks leads me to this observation which I admit teeters on the edge of acerbic rhetoric… you knew it would eventually.
I have never played a game of football in my life. I do not count games where my sister was the QB and my next door neighbors the opposing linemen, nor do I count games where we fifteen to eighteen-year-old girls wore little red gym shorts and tight grey t-shirts and romped in the dewy grass, tumbling in the mud, tugging at each other’s flags and…HA…Bad Evil Nasty Zoot!…you were all so sucked in weren’t you! Nope, never played a real game but I will comment on the actions of those who have… and I’ll do so with great conviction in the spirit of true DGIWWPNPBIWHPWWHDSEDTWHRIA-WFOTBBGWITSAAHKFBTTOPBOTFHTWAGOB--a great sport.
And I am not alone.
It used to be that those who talked of sporting events had themselves, at one time, been accounted great players or coaches and they actually did have some insight, even if their only audience was the other old dudes hanging out at the barber’s or the donut shop.
Now, however, we are raised to comment on sports and not necessarily play them. As with myself and football.
Sometimes, I expunge myself of the feeling of ridiculousness by thinking that football Saturdays and Bowl Games are just excuses for beer consumption, but, well, even I have been guilty of second-guessing a coach or two. So, I shall plead guilty to the criminal behavior of armchair coaching in the first degree and armchair quarterbacking in the second.
Now, as I go perform some sort of horrifying penance, I shall leave you with an impression of sports fans in Hawaii after football season and how we shall amuse ourselves. 1) There is some sort of other football out there played by “professionals,” but that is only for those who have truly mastered the sport of commentary. 2) There is playing a sport yourself or playing outside in the water, but, oy, so much effort goes into that. 3) There is UH baseball!
Whatever I may have said about the Rainbow Warrior 11 holds no truth for their 9 on the diamond. Tickets for these games are cheaper than a good martini at happy hour, and they sell HUGE beers for like $5.00, and the stands are at least half empty. And the best part is, I do not have to suffer the shameful ridiculousness of pretending to know what I am talking about, for this is a game I have played.
Ever so soon now, I will be able to park my ass at the ball park, swill beer and eat peanuts and wish I could still throw a ball without injuring something irreparably while commenting on the third baseman’s arm. |
