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I swear, if I hear the phrase "the race card" uttered on a political news show one more time I AM GOING TO THROW A FOOTBALL THROUGH THE SCREEN!
-e
Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Showing posts with label football. Show all posts
Friday, August 01, 2008
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Back To The Future Please!
I don't drive a De Lorean, but I feel like I've somehow been transported back to the 1950's or something. I haven't seen any poodle skirts, and there's definitely hip hop on the radio, but the things that come out of folks' mouths around here are all the proof I need.
I've been having the following conversation a lot recently. The other person (OP) is a composite of many people:
Me: I gotta go. My kid has football practice this evening.
OP: She's playing football this year?
Me: Yep.
OP: Why?
Me: Because she wants to.
OP: What team?
Me: A local Pop Warner team. The team seems solid. They've been champs a few times.
OP: And they have a girls' team?
Me: Uh, no.
OP: So she's going to be playing with boys?
Me: Uh, yeah.
OP: Is it flag football?
Me: Nope. Tackle.
OP: And you're letting her play?
Me: Uh, yeah.
OP: Has she been tackled yet?
Me: No. They're doing a skills and agility camp right now. It's kinda like spring training. There's no contact until closer to the actual season.
OP: Well...she'll quit the first time she gets tackled.
Me: Ha! You obviously don't know my kid very well. The whole reason she wants to play is to tackle someone.
OP: You're not afraid she'll get hurt?
Me: Not really. She's not fragile.
OP: Are you sure you're not making her play?
Me: Entirely her decision. I don't care whether she plays or not.
OP: But she's a girl.
Me: I know this. I changed her diapers.
Now, don't get me wrong. I had expected a few folks to balk at her playing football. I'm not naive. I know that old prejudices die hard, and little girls playing tackle football is not something you see every day. But, come on. It's not like she's the first girl to ever play the game. It's Pop Warner, not the NFL. I mean, girls have been participating in Punt, Pass & Kick competitions for as long as I can remember. And my nephew, who plays high school football, says there's a girl playing on his school's team. (This is not the first time I've heard of girls participating in Texas high school football since I graduated. I seem to remember a lawsuit...) In fact, Detroit has its own female professional football team. (No, Joe, I'm not talking about the Lions.) And, although they got eliminated in a playoff game three days ago, the Detroit Demolition have managed to win four championships over the past several years (only one since joining the IWFL in 2006...they lost in the championship game that year but won it last year). The Detroit Lions, meanwhile, are perennial bottom-feeders who want to charge you a small fortune to watch them lose. They might try recruiting some players from the Demolition. They couldn't possibly be any worse. But I'm not one to gossip, so you didn't hear that from me. LOL
And on the subject of injury. Why is it that people are so concerned girls will get hurt playing football? I mean, hello? Have you seen competitive cheerleading these days? Or gymnastics? Both are infinitely more dangerous than football. I ought to know. I used to play tackle football regularly when I was her age. Only I played on the front lawn without pads with my brother and his friends, all of whom were older than me. I never sustained a single injury. By contrast, I can't even tell you how many sprains, strains, and pains I've gotten from cheerleading and gymnastics because there have been so many. If you think getting tackled hurts, try taking a header off the balance beam or the high bar, or crashing onto the asphalt when a partner stunt or pyramid goes wrong. My daughter did try cheerleading last year (and hated it), and strangely nobody questioned whether I was afraid she'd hurt herself then.
But, I digress.
By far, the most ridiculous conversations I've had on the subject have gone something like this:
OP: I don't think you should let her play football.
Me: Why not?
OP: Because she's a girl.
Me: So?
OP: So you don't want to make her gay or something.
Me: You sound like a fool.
OP: I'm serious.
Me: You can't possibly be serious, because that would make you an idiot.
OP: Well, it could happen if you keep letting her do boy stuff.
Me: Boy stuff? What does that even mean anyway?
OP: If you let her act like a boy, she'll grow up thinking she's one.
Me: And that fantasy would come crashing down the moment she got her period.
OP: Be serious!
Me: I am. And here's a newsflash for you: whether or not she is gay was more than likely already determined before she ever took a breath in this world. I doubt letting her play football at the age of 10 will have any bearing on her sexuality one way or another.
OP: You could turn her gay if you're not careful.
Me: That's ridiculous. And, even if it were true, there are worse things she could be.
OP: Oh yeah? Like what?
Me: Like intolerant. Like ignorant. Like afraid to try things because she seeks approval from the insignificant masses that don't contribute one iota to her worth as a person. Like an idiot. Like you.
Okay. So you see where that discussion always ends up. But I'm still quite baffled. This is, after all, the year 2008. Or is it? I mean, are we really still having the whole nature vs. nurture discussion as it relates to human sexuality? Apparently so. And I've found that out. There are still people out there who think that if put my child in frilly dresses and buy her baby dolls, this somehow guarantees that she'll be heterosexual. Whatever. I hate to break it to you, but science has proven time and again that this is not the case. (Not that it's important, although I might as well note it here, but I've known my kid is firmly heterosexual since she was about nine months old. But even if she wasn't, I'd love her anyway.)
But, there is hope. While a couple of the coaches were caught by surprise when a girl showed up to camp, they seem to be fine with her participation. And, although many are amused by her presence, they have all embraced the opportunity to teach her the fundamentals of the game. (I can tell some of them don't quite know what to make of her yet, but that is perfectly understandable.) And most of the boys don't seem to mind having her on the field. Sure, a few have made comments to her. But most of them seem fine with it, if they notice her at all. At her last practice, one little boy's father seemed surprised to see her leaving the huddle:
Man: Are you playing football this year, young lady?
G: (calmly) Yes.
Man: (enthusiastically) Good for you, young lady! Show these boys how it's done!
And on that note, I've gotta go. Cause I think I've spotted Doc Brown, and he's the only one that can fix the flux capacitor in my Malibu...
I've been having the following conversation a lot recently. The other person (OP) is a composite of many people:
Me: I gotta go. My kid has football practice this evening.
OP: She's playing football this year?
Me: Yep.
OP: Why?
Me: Because she wants to.
OP: What team?
Me: A local Pop Warner team. The team seems solid. They've been champs a few times.
OP: And they have a girls' team?
Me: Uh, no.
OP: So she's going to be playing with boys?
Me: Uh, yeah.
OP: Is it flag football?
Me: Nope. Tackle.
OP: And you're letting her play?
Me: Uh, yeah.
OP: Has she been tackled yet?
Me: No. They're doing a skills and agility camp right now. It's kinda like spring training. There's no contact until closer to the actual season.
OP: Well...she'll quit the first time she gets tackled.
Me: Ha! You obviously don't know my kid very well. The whole reason she wants to play is to tackle someone.
OP: You're not afraid she'll get hurt?
Me: Not really. She's not fragile.
OP: Are you sure you're not making her play?
Me: Entirely her decision. I don't care whether she plays or not.
OP: But she's a girl.
Me: I know this. I changed her diapers.
Now, don't get me wrong. I had expected a few folks to balk at her playing football. I'm not naive. I know that old prejudices die hard, and little girls playing tackle football is not something you see every day. But, come on. It's not like she's the first girl to ever play the game. It's Pop Warner, not the NFL. I mean, girls have been participating in Punt, Pass & Kick competitions for as long as I can remember. And my nephew, who plays high school football, says there's a girl playing on his school's team. (This is not the first time I've heard of girls participating in Texas high school football since I graduated. I seem to remember a lawsuit...) In fact, Detroit has its own female professional football team. (No, Joe, I'm not talking about the Lions.) And, although they got eliminated in a playoff game three days ago, the Detroit Demolition have managed to win four championships over the past several years (only one since joining the IWFL in 2006...they lost in the championship game that year but won it last year). The Detroit Lions, meanwhile, are perennial bottom-feeders who want to charge you a small fortune to watch them lose. They might try recruiting some players from the Demolition. They couldn't possibly be any worse. But I'm not one to gossip, so you didn't hear that from me. LOL
And on the subject of injury. Why is it that people are so concerned girls will get hurt playing football? I mean, hello? Have you seen competitive cheerleading these days? Or gymnastics? Both are infinitely more dangerous than football. I ought to know. I used to play tackle football regularly when I was her age. Only I played on the front lawn without pads with my brother and his friends, all of whom were older than me. I never sustained a single injury. By contrast, I can't even tell you how many sprains, strains, and pains I've gotten from cheerleading and gymnastics because there have been so many. If you think getting tackled hurts, try taking a header off the balance beam or the high bar, or crashing onto the asphalt when a partner stunt or pyramid goes wrong. My daughter did try cheerleading last year (and hated it), and strangely nobody questioned whether I was afraid she'd hurt herself then.
But, I digress.
By far, the most ridiculous conversations I've had on the subject have gone something like this:
OP: I don't think you should let her play football.
Me: Why not?
OP: Because she's a girl.
Me: So?
OP: So you don't want to make her gay or something.
Me: You sound like a fool.
OP: I'm serious.
Me: You can't possibly be serious, because that would make you an idiot.
OP: Well, it could happen if you keep letting her do boy stuff.
Me: Boy stuff? What does that even mean anyway?
OP: If you let her act like a boy, she'll grow up thinking she's one.
Me: And that fantasy would come crashing down the moment she got her period.
OP: Be serious!
Me: I am. And here's a newsflash for you: whether or not she is gay was more than likely already determined before she ever took a breath in this world. I doubt letting her play football at the age of 10 will have any bearing on her sexuality one way or another.
OP: You could turn her gay if you're not careful.
Me: That's ridiculous. And, even if it were true, there are worse things she could be.
OP: Oh yeah? Like what?
Me: Like intolerant. Like ignorant. Like afraid to try things because she seeks approval from the insignificant masses that don't contribute one iota to her worth as a person. Like an idiot. Like you.
Okay. So you see where that discussion always ends up. But I'm still quite baffled. This is, after all, the year 2008. Or is it? I mean, are we really still having the whole nature vs. nurture discussion as it relates to human sexuality? Apparently so. And I've found that out. There are still people out there who think that if put my child in frilly dresses and buy her baby dolls, this somehow guarantees that she'll be heterosexual. Whatever. I hate to break it to you, but science has proven time and again that this is not the case. (Not that it's important, although I might as well note it here, but I've known my kid is firmly heterosexual since she was about nine months old. But even if she wasn't, I'd love her anyway.)
But, there is hope. While a couple of the coaches were caught by surprise when a girl showed up to camp, they seem to be fine with her participation. And, although many are amused by her presence, they have all embraced the opportunity to teach her the fundamentals of the game. (I can tell some of them don't quite know what to make of her yet, but that is perfectly understandable.) And most of the boys don't seem to mind having her on the field. Sure, a few have made comments to her. But most of them seem fine with it, if they notice her at all. At her last practice, one little boy's father seemed surprised to see her leaving the huddle:
Man: Are you playing football this year, young lady?
G: (calmly) Yes.
Man: (enthusiastically) Good for you, young lady! Show these boys how it's done!
And on that note, I've gotta go. Cause I think I've spotted Doc Brown, and he's the only one that can fix the flux capacitor in my Malibu...
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Dilemma
I've got a problem.
Okay, you've got jokes...but I'm serious about this. This is keeping me up at night. (Well...that's not exactly true, since I'm up most of the night anyway.)
In case you didn't know, the NFL is kind enough to give me a spectacular birthday gift every year. It's called the start of the regular season. This year is no different in that respect, as the first Football Sunday falls on my birthday again this year.
But I'm approaching this wondrous event with a good deal of trepidation. Why? For one reason:
Randy Moss is playing for the New England Patriots.
Okay, so maybe it's not the end of the world. But it's pretty damn close. I can't stand it! This situation threatens to shatter every notion I ever thought I had about the world of football. The crux of the problem is twofold:
1) I adore Randy Moss.
2) I abhor the Patriots.
Why do I love Randy? That's easy. He's a great athlete, and he's obstinate. How could you NOT like a guy like that? (By the way, the "great athlete" part of the equation is key, lest you mere mortal men think it's okay to be obstinate. Oh, and someone explain to T.O. that the key word is "obstinate" and NOT "asinine"...and then get him a dictionary...and then read it to him 'cause I'm not too certain he knows how.)
You see, ever since I was a wee little tot I've been a Raiders fan. I think I was about three years old when I first became enamored with The Black and Silver. Madden was a coach then, not a video game. That's how long I've been a Raider fan. It's why the names Marcus Allen, Howie Long, and Rich Gannon always bring a smile to my face. It's why the words "Tuck Rule" cause my body to convulse uncontrollably for several minutes at a time. It's why I despise the Patriots. It's why I believe Bill Belichick is the devil.
Yeah...the whole satan thing is a little harsh, but it's the only thing that makes sense. First I thought Tom Brady had made a deal with the devil, on account of the whole U of M thing too. Then I realized that, with Belichick is both GM and coach. So how does a team continue to win despite releasing a string of world-class players to free agency? How does a team become the only champions in the history of the NFL ever to benefit from the Tuck Rule? You make the call.
But you're an agnostic. You don't even believe in satan.
Ah, but you are incorrect Grasshopper. My being agnostic simply means I'm not arrogant enough to believe I know definitively one way or another whether heaven or hell exists. Personally, I tend to lean toward the negative side of that argument. But Belichick, in my opinion, is the closest thing to concrete proof that the devil does exist. Well, him and G. W. Bush, to be sure. But I digress.
So, I've had to watch athletes I can't stand play on teams that I love. Romanowski, who I never liked, playing for the Raiders comes immediately to mind. And then there's Antoine Walker, who I consider a jackass, playing for the Miami Heat. That has never been a problem. I root for the team I love and hope the player I can't stand doesn't do anything stupid. (As we all know, hope didn't work very well for Romo.)
But now a player I love is on a team I hate. How do I reconcile that in my head? I want Randy to catch passes, but every football he catches benefits the Patriots. I'm not really sure I know how to handle that. Since my time is obviously running out, and I'm no closer to a solution, I'm asking for your help.
Does anyone have a solution for me? If you've been in a similar situation, how did you handle it?
Okay, you've got jokes...but I'm serious about this. This is keeping me up at night. (Well...that's not exactly true, since I'm up most of the night anyway.)
In case you didn't know, the NFL is kind enough to give me a spectacular birthday gift every year. It's called the start of the regular season. This year is no different in that respect, as the first Football Sunday falls on my birthday again this year.
But I'm approaching this wondrous event with a good deal of trepidation. Why? For one reason:
Randy Moss is playing for the New England Patriots.
Okay, so maybe it's not the end of the world. But it's pretty damn close. I can't stand it! This situation threatens to shatter every notion I ever thought I had about the world of football. The crux of the problem is twofold:
1) I adore Randy Moss.2) I abhor the Patriots.
Why do I love Randy? That's easy. He's a great athlete, and he's obstinate. How could you NOT like a guy like that? (By the way, the "great athlete" part of the equation is key, lest you mere mortal men think it's okay to be obstinate. Oh, and someone explain to T.O. that the key word is "obstinate" and NOT "asinine"...and then get him a dictionary...and then read it to him 'cause I'm not too certain he knows how.)
You see, ever since I was a wee little tot I've been a Raiders fan. I think I was about three years old when I first became enamored with The Black and Silver. Madden was a coach then, not a video game. That's how long I've been a Raider fan. It's why the names Marcus Allen, Howie Long, and Rich Gannon always bring a smile to my face. It's why the words "Tuck Rule" cause my body to convulse uncontrollably for several minutes at a time. It's why I despise the Patriots. It's why I believe Bill Belichick is the devil.
Yeah...the whole satan thing is a little harsh, but it's the only thing that makes sense. First I thought Tom Brady had made a deal with the devil, on account of the whole U of M thing too. Then I realized that, with Belichick is both GM and coach. So how does a team continue to win despite releasing a string of world-class players to free agency? How does a team become the only champions in the history of the NFL ever to benefit from the Tuck Rule? You make the call.
But you're an agnostic. You don't even believe in satan.
Ah, but you are incorrect Grasshopper. My being agnostic simply means I'm not arrogant enough to believe I know definitively one way or another whether heaven or hell exists. Personally, I tend to lean toward the negative side of that argument. But Belichick, in my opinion, is the closest thing to concrete proof that the devil does exist. Well, him and G. W. Bush, to be sure. But I digress.
So, I've had to watch athletes I can't stand play on teams that I love. Romanowski, who I never liked, playing for the Raiders comes immediately to mind. And then there's Antoine Walker, who I consider a jackass, playing for the Miami Heat. That has never been a problem. I root for the team I love and hope the player I can't stand doesn't do anything stupid. (As we all know, hope didn't work very well for Romo.)
But now a player I love is on a team I hate. How do I reconcile that in my head? I want Randy to catch passes, but every football he catches benefits the Patriots. I'm not really sure I know how to handle that. Since my time is obviously running out, and I'm no closer to a solution, I'm asking for your help.
Does anyone have a solution for me? If you've been in a similar situation, how did you handle it?
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Love & Basketball
It's that time of year again when young men's fancies turn to... basketball. The Big Dance. The Sweet Sixteen. The Elite Eight. The Final Four. The agony. The ecstasy. How can anyone NOT adore the season? The NBA playoffs are in sight, and teams are gearing up for that final push, not only to reach them, but also to solidify their seedings. Basketball, I always say, is one of my favorite of the three seasons. (Yes, three. Football, Basketball, and Off. Didn't they teach you anything in school? Geez!)
What I don't quite understand is why there aren't more female fans of the game. I mean, what's not to like? Physically fit men running up and down the court getting themselves sweaty. Come on, ladies. Is there anything sexier than the sight of Alonzo Mourning all lathered up with perspiration after his fourth block of the night? It's a beautiful thing, I tell you.
I'm not saying ladies should watch only to see fine men. There's also the strategic aspect of the game to which we should be attracted. We, the females of the species, are a cunning and conniving bunch. (Hey, don't hate me 'cuz I told the truth.) I would think that any game that involves strategy, as well as skill, would rate high for us. I mean, you could watch a ballet and see muscular men prance around, but I'll bet the end of Swan Lake can't get your adrenaline pumping the way a good, close, overtime battle can.
It's not just ladies that need to give the game a chance, either. I've met men who know little or nothing about sports. This is a real turn-off for me, because I watch sports regularly. I'm the one you do not call on Football Sunday, unless there's an emergency. And even then, it had better be halftime. Same with basketball.
Believe it or not, I put a guy I was dating out of my apartment twice for bugging me during the game. I remember it like it was yesterday. The year was nineteen-hundred and ninety-five...LOL
Okay, I'll spare you the sitcom-like flashback. But let's just say I tried to give the man a chance.
He insisted on coming over and watching a Monday Night Football game with me. I cautioned him against this because I can get pretty riled up watching football. I don't even remember who was playing. What I do remember is that after the first touchdown and PAT, as the broadcast cut away to a commercial and flashed the score on the screen, I heard...
"Ooh, they got that score wrong. They said seven points, but they only scored one touchdown."
I just looked at that dude in disbelief. He was so proud of himself, too. He thought he was making intelligent commentary. Poor, dumb soul.
I calmly explained that touchdowns are worth six points each, and the extra point kick added another. Then I put his butt out of my apartment before the commercial break was over.
He later explained that he didn't know much about football. (Naw, really?! You don't say!) Basketball, he claimed, was really his game. I am apparently a glutton for punishment, because, when the NBA season began a couple of months later, I allowed him to come over and watch a game with me.
So, I was coaching and helping the refs out, as I always do, and listening to make sure he actually knew the game. The ball went through the hoop.
"That's two!", he exclaimed. I breathed a sigh of relief. Hallelujah!, I thought. He knows how scoring works in this game. This won't be so bad after all.
A few minutes later, I hopped up and yelled toward the television. "Illegal defense, Ref!"
Just then, the whistle blew...the ref had seen it too. (Remember, this was back in '95... long before the rules changed.) Yes!
"What's an illegal defense?" ol' boy asked with interest.
Alright. Don't panic. It's an advanced concept. Maybe he's a fan of the college game and doesn't know NBA rules.
"You gotta play man-to-man in the NBA. It's not like the college game where you can play zone defense," I calmly explained.
"What's a zone defense?"
What the...? I was trying to enjoy the game, not teach Basic Basketball 101. So I put his butt out of my apartment.
Needless to say, that relationship did NOT last.
Now, I'm not suggesting that sports knowledge should be the cornerstone of everyone's criteria for a mate. But it doesn't hurt.
I can tell you're not convinced yet. So don't take my word for it. Turn on a good game, settle in, and enjoy the competition of it. You'll get sucked into it. You'll develop a love for the game--whatever the game--as I have. Then, you'll expect the same devotion to your sport of choice.
~e
What I don't quite understand is why there aren't more female fans of the game. I mean, what's not to like? Physically fit men running up and down the court getting themselves sweaty. Come on, ladies. Is there anything sexier than the sight of Alonzo Mourning all lathered up with perspiration after his fourth block of the night? It's a beautiful thing, I tell you.
I'm not saying ladies should watch only to see fine men. There's also the strategic aspect of the game to which we should be attracted. We, the females of the species, are a cunning and conniving bunch. (Hey, don't hate me 'cuz I told the truth.) I would think that any game that involves strategy, as well as skill, would rate high for us. I mean, you could watch a ballet and see muscular men prance around, but I'll bet the end of Swan Lake can't get your adrenaline pumping the way a good, close, overtime battle can.
It's not just ladies that need to give the game a chance, either. I've met men who know little or nothing about sports. This is a real turn-off for me, because I watch sports regularly. I'm the one you do not call on Football Sunday, unless there's an emergency. And even then, it had better be halftime. Same with basketball.
Believe it or not, I put a guy I was dating out of my apartment twice for bugging me during the game. I remember it like it was yesterday. The year was nineteen-hundred and ninety-five...LOL
Okay, I'll spare you the sitcom-like flashback. But let's just say I tried to give the man a chance.
He insisted on coming over and watching a Monday Night Football game with me. I cautioned him against this because I can get pretty riled up watching football. I don't even remember who was playing. What I do remember is that after the first touchdown and PAT, as the broadcast cut away to a commercial and flashed the score on the screen, I heard...
"Ooh, they got that score wrong. They said seven points, but they only scored one touchdown."
I just looked at that dude in disbelief. He was so proud of himself, too. He thought he was making intelligent commentary. Poor, dumb soul.
I calmly explained that touchdowns are worth six points each, and the extra point kick added another. Then I put his butt out of my apartment before the commercial break was over.
He later explained that he didn't know much about football. (Naw, really?! You don't say!) Basketball, he claimed, was really his game. I am apparently a glutton for punishment, because, when the NBA season began a couple of months later, I allowed him to come over and watch a game with me.
So, I was coaching and helping the refs out, as I always do, and listening to make sure he actually knew the game. The ball went through the hoop.
"That's two!", he exclaimed. I breathed a sigh of relief. Hallelujah!, I thought. He knows how scoring works in this game. This won't be so bad after all.
A few minutes later, I hopped up and yelled toward the television. "Illegal defense, Ref!"
Just then, the whistle blew...the ref had seen it too. (Remember, this was back in '95... long before the rules changed.) Yes!
"What's an illegal defense?" ol' boy asked with interest.
Alright. Don't panic. It's an advanced concept. Maybe he's a fan of the college game and doesn't know NBA rules.
"You gotta play man-to-man in the NBA. It's not like the college game where you can play zone defense," I calmly explained.
"What's a zone defense?"
What the...? I was trying to enjoy the game, not teach Basic Basketball 101. So I put his butt out of my apartment.
Needless to say, that relationship did NOT last.
Now, I'm not suggesting that sports knowledge should be the cornerstone of everyone's criteria for a mate. But it doesn't hurt.
I can tell you're not convinced yet. So don't take my word for it. Turn on a good game, settle in, and enjoy the competition of it. You'll get sucked into it. You'll develop a love for the game--whatever the game--as I have. Then, you'll expect the same devotion to your sport of choice.
~e
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