Two of my neighbors have just upgraded their TV service to HD, high definition. A third is on the verge. Big-screens are reasonably cheap, but that 55-incher you got ain’t no good if you can’t read the numbers on the shirts or see the ball in the air.
Welcome to football season.
If you’re on Facebook, your feed is likely filled with posts of mascots, flags, jerseys, and all manner of animals and emblems. Sports-talk shows have been giddy with their picks and prognostications for what’s going to happen over the next few months.
And as usual, I’m sitting here in my underwear, trying to figure out what it all means. And it does mean something. For one, it’s fall, by golly.
We could probably toss a coin over whether we love fall for the football or football because it happens in the fall. Glance around and see that the sumacs, dogwoods, and sourwoods – maybe even your maples – are signaling a change of seasons. Especially in the South, by the time kick-off comes around, we’ve had an evening or two where a cool breeze has dropped hints that this year’s hell-hot days are almost behind us.
Football season also makes us more social. If you go to the games, you may have met up with friends prior to the game for some food, toddies, and maybe a silly lawn game. Some of these friends are not friends any other time of year except at tailgate time. You likely sit with friends at the game. Even for those of us that simply watch the games on TV, it’s almost always with a gathering of friends.
Our usual bunch is mostly a Southeastern Conference crowd:
and Auburn are
represented. We try not to gloat when someone’s team loses, especially when
they lose to our team. We all feel especially blessed that we have no one in
our crowd rooting for Alabama or Florida, because then
things might get really ugly.
And with the social aspect of pigskin season, there is food. Special food. Garbage food. Stuff you don’t normally eat because, really, isn’t your butt already large enough? But it’s football food! Gotta have it.
Finally, this time of year is about hope. World peace, financial market meltdowns, even your day-to-day struggles to pay the bills be damned! This is the year my team is going to win the national championship!
Not. Probably not. But maybe?
The friends, then. The food. The color in the leaves, the change in the temperature, and especially the lower humidity that make being outside a pleasure all happen in tandem with our alma maters getting down to the business of what matters most: kicking somebody’s tail into next year!
Blow that whistle, ref! ‘Tis the season.