NFL, Week 1: Change is overrated
As I was taking in the action of Week 1 of the NFL season on Sunday, I suddenly realized why football – a punishing game of bone-crushing brutality and barbaric strength – brings me so much inner-peace every year without fail. In a life of perpetual uncertainty, the National Football League is a supreme constant. Nothing ever changes. Nothing ever will.
Peyton Manning will have a commercial that I will find kind of amusing, even if I’m supposed to hate him like everyone else. Chris Collinsworth will talk down to me at a head-scratching level that will fill my soul with glorious anger. Someone in the studio will call James Brown “JB”, and I’ll think for a moment that racism has infiltrated the halftime telecast.
Dick Vermeil will cry, Herm Edwards will botch a two-minute drill, and sideline shots of Mike Martz will make you want to punch him in his pompous face. Brett Favre will look old and weathered, Michael Vick will disappoint you, and Terrell Owens will remind you why he can be a complete jackass as he carries your fantasy team week after week.
Jeremy Shockey will get more publicity than he deserves, someone will ask Troy Aikman about concussions, and Suzy Kolber’s undeniable friskiness will make you empathize with Joe Namath all over again. Bob Costas will be short on HBO, Shannon Sharpe will be unintelligible on CBS, and Terry Bradshaw will laugh too hard at something that isn’t really that funny on FOX.
One of your top three fantasy picks will blow out his knee, Bill Cowher will inadvertently spit all over his players while delivering a pep talk, and you will marvel how Drew Bledsoe is still in the league. Dan Marino will have a vague look that he has no idea what’s going on around him, Tom Jackson will remind you of Panthro from ThunderCats, and you will see John Madden’s gray hair accented by burnt orange eyebrows and ask your nearest buddy, “Has he always looked like that?”
The Jets will blow a game they have no business losing, the Patriots will win a game they have no business winning, and Lions fans will wish Wayne Fontz would just come back to them, like a siren call to a special lover who left too soon.
All these things will happen this year, and they’ll happen again the next, but it will never become even remotely tiresome. I will watch from September to February, and you’ll do the same, and then we’ll count down the days to do it again when the calendar turns over.
Football brings me peace. Nothing ever changes. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Peyton Manning will have a commercial that I will find kind of amusing, even if I’m supposed to hate him like everyone else. Chris Collinsworth will talk down to me at a head-scratching level that will fill my soul with glorious anger. Someone in the studio will call James Brown “JB”, and I’ll think for a moment that racism has infiltrated the halftime telecast.
Dick Vermeil will cry, Herm Edwards will botch a two-minute drill, and sideline shots of Mike Martz will make you want to punch him in his pompous face. Brett Favre will look old and weathered, Michael Vick will disappoint you, and Terrell Owens will remind you why he can be a complete jackass as he carries your fantasy team week after week.
Jeremy Shockey will get more publicity than he deserves, someone will ask Troy Aikman about concussions, and Suzy Kolber’s undeniable friskiness will make you empathize with Joe Namath all over again. Bob Costas will be short on HBO, Shannon Sharpe will be unintelligible on CBS, and Terry Bradshaw will laugh too hard at something that isn’t really that funny on FOX.
One of your top three fantasy picks will blow out his knee, Bill Cowher will inadvertently spit all over his players while delivering a pep talk, and you will marvel how Drew Bledsoe is still in the league. Dan Marino will have a vague look that he has no idea what’s going on around him, Tom Jackson will remind you of Panthro from ThunderCats, and you will see John Madden’s gray hair accented by burnt orange eyebrows and ask your nearest buddy, “Has he always looked like that?”
The Jets will blow a game they have no business losing, the Patriots will win a game they have no business winning, and Lions fans will wish Wayne Fontz would just come back to them, like a siren call to a special lover who left too soon.
All these things will happen this year, and they’ll happen again the next, but it will never become even remotely tiresome. I will watch from September to February, and you’ll do the same, and then we’ll count down the days to do it again when the calendar turns over.
Football brings me peace. Nothing ever changes. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
posted by Dan Hanzus at 12:59 PM
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