I know when football season is approaching. It starts with the men in my house planning a fantasy football meeting, slash party, slash draft, slash my wrist (sorry I slipped with that one) kind of event. But before the event even occurs, there’s the “research” that goes into the players.
July is when I begin to faintly hear the discussions concerning players and their health. By the beginning of August men become like students finishing their Senior English papers; on the computer, checking periodicals, combing through statistics, and starting their “picks”. And for once it’s picks that don’t involve nasal cavities.
Then the draft day comes. This isn’t a quick meeting. This involves several hours of talking, debating, finally drafting, and then coming home with the hope that this team will win the Super Bowl. Then the season games begin!
Sunday lingo on the way to church for some people may be, “I wonder what the pastor will talk about today? What are we having for lunch?” Ours starts with, “I should have played John Doe.* I didn’t. Now watch he’s going to score all these points and I’m going to lose this week. My team is horrible.” Sigh. I’m hoping the sermon will revolve around keeping the Sabbath holy. Something like, “NFL…Not For the Lord’s Day!” I can only pray.
When the fantasy team is doing well, it’s incredible. There are high fives, whooping and hollering, and the testosterone level is excruciatingly high. When the team is doing poorly, a television remote is bound to fly, tempers flare, and suddenly men are talking to the television like they can really be heard. “John Doe * you stink. Why didn’t I trade him? Is it too late?” I myself would like to be traded to a wine bar.
When I was in college there was a class offered called “Sports Psychology”. I honestly used to think that it was about men and why they get so worked up about sports! Then I learned what it was really about. I like my idea better.
So girlfriends, wives, sister wives and such, brace yourselves for a couple of months. Next it’s playoffs, then the Super Bowl, and then we’re free…until fantasy baseball in the Spring.
*John Doe isn’t actually a NFL player. The author doesn’t know many players’ names.