Another year another season, yet oddly this past offseason seemed to feel like the longest I’ve had to wait for a new round of NFL football to commence. I think it has a lot to do with the annoying offseason tabloid-like atmosphere that lingered around too long like a bad double bean/cabbage burrito that’s taking its 2nd turn around your intestines. Waxing inspirational poetic metaphors aside, it’s time for some gridiron action!
Ignoring all the Michael Vick witchhunts, the Tila Tequila Twitter Tweetfest, and the soap opera circus, will help us focus on instead the substantial important headlines that will affect the actual games.
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So last week we held our annual fantasy football draft for the PPR/PPC/TD league I have commissioned for the better part of this decade. The results were ample amounts of offensive smack talk amongst friends/semi-strangers (aka internet acquaintances), but overshadowed by needless unsolicited generic compliments for “nice picks” that frankly is akin to congratulating a child for pooping in their diaper. In other words, yours truly was doling out the cheese in good form.
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Dust off your Carlos Francis jersey, bust out the cooler and load it up with your favorite beer, and get the padded seatbacks out of the closet to sit on those cold, hard metal benches at the stadium because it’s finally time for college football! Summer’s dying down, and the cool breeze of fall signals the beginning of pigskin heaven throughout the country. That collective high-pitched screaming you hear isn’t the bevy of Kirk Herbstreit groupies, but grown men in anticipation of another stellar season.
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Few experiences in life compare to a Saturday afternoon spent perched on a slab of metal benches cramped between your friends, and fellow alumni screaming and investing every ounce of effort cheering on your favorite team. College football is as American as tailgate parties, your favorite Game Day T-shirt, that lucky Under Armour hoodie, and the annoying fan in front of you that only knows 2 vulgar phrases to repeatedly yell at the opposing team whilst rabidly waving his/her incredulous pterodactyl-like wingspan in your direct line of view the whole game.
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Fool me once, shame on you… fool me twice, shame on Aaron Rodgers. By now as the sports news of the week has hit the waves and hit Green Bay Packer fans in the nads, yours truly finds himself in the midst of an internal struggle. Despite contradictory evidence, I personally always (cough) “try” to find the more pleasurable aspects of sports (hence the namesake of this website). However I cannot help but feel incredulous skepticism (holding back some punches) regarding the Brett Favre retirement carousel. My objectivity knows no bounds, until blind emotions wash over me like the copious amounts of rain has been washing over West Texas all summer.
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