Sunday, September 10, 2006
Too Many Meetings
Today is the first true day of professional football. Yeah, yeah, I know that the Steelers beat Miami on Thursday the 7th. But today, almost every team in playing. I enjoy watching the NFL. Well, actually, I enjoy watching the first five minutes and the last five minutes of the game. See what tone is set and then see if that tone's the same at the end of the game. In between? Well, for my taste, there's way too many meetings. The huddles, the time-outs, the malingering after tackling. I'm just too impatient. I get enough of that time-wasting soul-sucking activity at work. Why would I want to see a less personal substitute at home?
My mother, an off-the-boat immigrant if there ever is one and a person well-oiled to, in her words, "speak her minds", once commented to my father and I as we feverishly studied this American version of football one Sunday long ago, "Again a discussion!? Don't they remember what they just talked about a minute ago? These boys must have been in the back row at school. Now, turn that off and let's all iron. Tomorrow's work and school."
I keep the game on, but I'm doing something else most times. It's my Sunday Muzak.
Though relegated out to the t.v. hinterlands, hockey's still my favorite. Players always thinking on their feet, well, uhm, skates, a minimal stoppage of play for injuries (and usually that stoppage is for collecting a player's teeth or contact lenses), and head coaches that aren't wired up for sound or handicapped with play cards or clipboards, like their counterparts in the NFL who seem to use the latter to disguise the fact that they didn't brush their teeth that morning. I don't want to hear about the intricacies of the NFL game either; just plain hogwash propaganda. I'd only seriously consider watching an entire NFL game if one of the teams had as head coach or, even better, if the NFL had as its commissioner the wily and explosive Don Cherry.
Otherwise, NFL game on and I'll be balancing my checkbook or filing my fingernails.
My mother, an off-the-boat immigrant if there ever is one and a person well-oiled to, in her words, "speak her minds", once commented to my father and I as we feverishly studied this American version of football one Sunday long ago, "Again a discussion!? Don't they remember what they just talked about a minute ago? These boys must have been in the back row at school. Now, turn that off and let's all iron. Tomorrow's work and school."
I keep the game on, but I'm doing something else most times. It's my Sunday Muzak.
Though relegated out to the t.v. hinterlands, hockey's still my favorite. Players always thinking on their feet, well, uhm, skates, a minimal stoppage of play for injuries (and usually that stoppage is for collecting a player's teeth or contact lenses), and head coaches that aren't wired up for sound or handicapped with play cards or clipboards, like their counterparts in the NFL who seem to use the latter to disguise the fact that they didn't brush their teeth that morning. I don't want to hear about the intricacies of the NFL game either; just plain hogwash propaganda. I'd only seriously consider watching an entire NFL game if one of the teams had as head coach or, even better, if the NFL had as its commissioner the wily and explosive Don Cherry.
Otherwise, NFL game on and I'll be balancing my checkbook or filing my fingernails.
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