With one last thumb lick of sauce from the sixty Buffalo wings I inhaled last night and one last sip of beer, the football season came to an end faster than Peyton Manning could say, “Omaha”. With it comes the conclusion of 17+ consecutive Sunday afternoons filled with nothing but staring at a flat screen TV from morning to night with the occasional visit to the kitchen/bathroom.
It has almost become an obligatory duty as an American man to watch football all day Sunday whether your favorite team is playing or not. Scheduling any plans on Sunday has become a mortal sin and god forbid if you show up to work on Monday and are unable to give your input on the games from the previous day.
Additionally, when you find yourself in the all too awkward position of meeting a guy for the first time the conversation always falls to football and if you have trouble naming off the top 10 pass rushers of the season thus far, you might as well walk into the kitchen with the women as they discuss which Kardashian is in the news this week.
Your reputation as a male is directly related to your football knowledge and with SportsCenter running 600 episodes a day and Grantland releasing a new article every six seconds, it can get pretty tiresome.
To set the record straight, I absolutely love football. Everything about it. The passion, the hits, the tweets, the drama, yet, with games being played three days a week, it has almost become an endless chore to keep up with all of the action as the season progresses.
To further explain this conundrum, let me give you a weekend in the life. After a long work week of answering E-mails and tweeting about shoes, I generally find myself in a bar 7 beers deep on Friday nights singing Dog Days are Over at the top of my lungs. Obviously this never leads to the most productive Saturdays and instead of the trip to the bank or grocery store, I end up either crying myself through a very average workout, or if the 7 beers turned into 7 shots, the workout will be replaced with General Tso’s and Tivo. Hours progess which is more than I can say for my hangover and finally night comes as does the hour that it is socially acceptable to go to bed on a Saturday. By the time I wake up, Sunday is here and Tivo is replaced with Shannon Sharpe in a bow tie and Chris Berman rattling off statistics as he gasps for air.
In order to fulfill my responsibilities as a male, I force myself to sit in front of the television (which is where the previous day was spent) keeping up with all of the scores and updates, throwing any potential errands or duties I had planned for that weekend out the door. Oh, some guy is throwing 100-dollar bills out his window down the street you say? Sorry football is on and Bill from accounting is definitely going to ask me what I thought about the Raiders defensive schemes.
So goes mine and most guys weekends from the end of August to the beginning of February. Besides Christmas and a more than likely disappointing New Years Eve, these four months are a blur with nothing to be said about bettering oneself than meager statistics that will simply be thrown away with next seasons opening kickoff.
The end of the football season is a relief. I don’t care who you are or what you say, as men, we finally find ourselves with free time, allowing ourselves to get to those things we were never able to attend to while Erin Andrews appeared on our television screens.
Finally weekends can be used for other things besides wasting away in man caves and living rooms. Men are finally allowed to go outside on a Sunday afternoon to see whether it rained or not. We are finally allowed to plan a weekend trip and other family members finally get the confirmation that yes, we are still alive and well.
So although last night probably ended with Peyton weeping in Archie’s arms I give a sigh of relief and the butt imprint on my couch slowly diminishes.
So men, don’t fret but celebrate! Go outside. Widdle a chair from nothing. Pick up that guitar. Go catch a fish with your bare hands. The end of Football Season has arrived and with it, so has your social life!!
Honestly, I prefer NFL AM's Nicole Zaloumis to Erin Andrews =]