Football proves the cure for all ailments
Published 12:00 am Wednesday, January 31, 2007
My brain, or at least what’s left of that little pea-shaped item on the top of my head, feels like it’s going to explode.
I’m sitting here on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in late January, trying my best to come up with a subject for this week’s column. I should be miles from the office, but after a week spent in Winton covering the trial involving two PETA employees and then having to come back to work each night for six-to-seven hours, my brain, or what’s left of it, is Jell-O.
On top of that, we (the newsroom) are hard at work putting together stories and taking photos for our annual Crossroads edition, a special that will be inserted on each Saturday in February.
I need some sort of spark to reignite by innards. Even my trusted sidekick n an ice-cold Mountain Dew n isn’t jumpstarting my brain.
There’s something dreadfully wrong with me. My energy level is sapped. It seems that a gentle breeze would knock me to my knees.
I don’t seem to be running a fever; I’m not sneezing or coughing and my joints are not aching – so I guess that rules out the flu.
Maybe I’ve been bitten my one of those disease infested mosquitoes. Naw, that can’t be so. It’s the dead of winter and those pesky little creatures are basking, not to mention feasting, on some warm-blooded human down in the Caribbean.
Perhaps I’ve eaten a burger from one of those mad cows. Nope, that can’t be the case. Someone once told me that a human can’t get sick by eating properly cooked meat from a mad cow. The only way to become infected is to treat a mad cow like sushi.
I just can’t figure out my problem. It’s just another typical Sunday for me here at work – plenty to do and not enough time to complete my tasks.
Whoa, wait just a minute. I did say it was Sunday, didn’t I?
Eureka! That’s it – it’s Sunday and there’s no football on the tube. I’m suffering from a bad case of pigskin withdrawal. I desperately need a fresh set of downs to work with. I so badly need to hear the words of Chris &uot;Boomer&uot; Berman – &uot;he-could-go-all-the-way!&uot; There aren’t any post patterns, safety blitzes, man coverage, flanker screens or pancake blocks.
I NEED FOOTBALL!!!!!
How I yearn for John Madden to draw up a play on the telecaster. Heck, I’m so desperate; I’d hang on every word uttered from Greg Gumble’s lips.
How many more days is it to the Super Bowl? How does anyone expect me to function for nearly another week without football?
Has anybody seen Dan Marino, Terry Bradshaw or Howie Long? I’ve gotta hear their voices. They relax me…put me in the mood for football.
Hey, my fingers seem to be ready to strike a couple of keys. A scan of my brain does show some signs of intelligent life. See, just thinking about football does wonders for my spirit.
I’m alive again. My blood is pumping through my veins. My heart is racing with thoughts of Super Bowl XLI. I’ve never missed a single one of these season-ending classics – from the immortal Bart Starr directing the Packers to a 35-10 win over the Chiefs back in 1967 (Super Bowl I for you novices) to the game plan plotted by “The Jaw” (Bill Cowher) as the Steelers jolted the Seahawks, 21-10 last year.
Man, oh, man – I’m in a groove now; talking about football.
Kick-off now seems just hours away. The chips and dip stand at the ready. The brewski is chilling in the fridge. The wife and daughter are bound and gagged in the back room (just kidding, dear) and the telephone is unplugged.
Warning to all Jehovah’s Witnesses n I will not be at home on Sunday, Feb. 4. The noise you hear from inside from home is not my TV; it must be your imagination.
CBS stands charged with televising perhaps the greatest sporting event in the history of mankind. It all begins at high noon with the “Road to the Super Bowl.” Phil Sims follows from 1-2 p.m. with his All Iron Man team. That will be followed by four and one-half hours of pre-game hoopla. Kickoff is set for 6:35 p.m. (are we there yet?) as the Colts battle the Bears from Dolphin Stadium in Miami.
Are you ready for some football – I am!