The Three Crazy Things I’ll Do During Football Season
(A.K.A., “Sorry hon, but here’s all the crazy sh** I’m going to say in the next few months. Please don’t get scared, and no I don’t have Tourette’s”)
It’s football season! Which means I’m happy, but my girlfriend, not so much. Not to say that she isn’t a football fan, or that a woman can’t be a football fan. I’m just much more passionate about it than her. Much more. In fact, I can get very passionate. To the point where I look like one of those homeless guys you see on the street going through a psychotic episode.
This article is kind of an open letter/confessional/manifesto. It details all of the crazy things I’ll do and say this football season, and why. So, if my lady, or my friends and family all see me on Saturday’s and Sunday’s throw stuff across the room, after reading this, they’ll know why.
I’m gonna cuss. Often. And loudly. I’ll be profane. Funny, but profane. For the next half of this year, I’m gonna look like Linda Blair from The Exorcist wearing an Ohio State jersey. If anyone out there really knows me, when I’m passionate about something, I curse. And I’m passionate about football and the teams I follow. And I just won’t curse when my teams are losing, I’ll also let it rip when my teams are winning. Hey, passion. If anyone out there who’s reading this plans to watch a football game with me, just know that I’ll be a hybrid of Richard Pryor, Sam Kinison, Eddie Murphy, and Lisa Lampanelli (I’m secure in my manhood…ha!) On any given Saturday and Sunday. It may be disturbing to sit next to me, but at least I’ll be creative when I use my expletives.
I’m going to ask questions. I won’t be asking them to a person, but to the television. I know, I know, no one on the screen can hear me. But, that won’t stop me from screaming rhetorical questions at the refs, coaches, teams, and the sports anchors. Questions like : “What kind of call was that?” “Who called that play?” “Who put him in the game?” Who drafted him?” “Why did I quit drinkingthis year?!” will get screamed out regularly. And all of those questions could get spiced up with F- bombs, depending on who’s playing and how much they are losing by.
If, and when I ask these questions, if you happen to be a guest of mine, you don’thave to answer them. But, if you do, please have a good answer. Because I just may reply with, “Why are you @#$*ing talking ?!! Please, have another chicken wing.”
I’ll cry. Actually, I’ll curl up in the fetal positon, turn on some Adele, and then start crying. Because I’m a Cleveland Browns fan. And, I know they’ll probably break my heart this year. Like they do pretty much every year. When they somehow implode, when another assistant coach commits a crime, when the owner does or says something shady, or when Johnny Manziel falls off the wagon and starts for the Browns while nursing a massive hangover, I’ll break down and sob uncontrollably like a 14 year old watching The Fault in Our Stars. I…just can’t quit you, Brownies.
“Never mind, I’ll find someone like you…I wish nothing, but the best, for you too…”