Are you ready for some football? I reckon most men would say, “Heck yeah!” while their poor wives just shake their heads and start counting down the days ‘til the Super Bowl when they’ll get their TVs and husbands back. I suppose there are a few adult males out there who don’t care much about football, and if they want to sit around in their lacy underpants and watch pseudo-sports like golf, that’s just fine and dandy. But here at the Crow’s Nest, football is the only game played on my TV besides an occasional Spurs game.
What about baseball, one might ponder? I haven’t watched baseball since the days of Johnny Bench and Pete Rose. Life is too short to spend three hours waiting for something to happen. I get tired of watching some millionaire throw a fastball. If I want to see someone throw a wicked curve, I’ll come home drunk with lipstick on my collar. Maw can throw a frying pan farther and faster than Nolan Ryan ever tossed on the mound.
Yep, now that football season has begun, I am happier than a tick on a wino. College ball on Saturdays and the NFL on Sunday and Monday night. If my beer fridge is fully stocked and I have a big bag of ranch-flavored cholesterol, I’m a happy camper for five and a half months. I usually have to wear a name tag in February to remind Maw of my name. During football season, she calls me “Hey, You in the Recliner.”
