I like to watch football. When I was younger, I liked to play football, too, but it was either two-handed tag, or flag football. Mostly, it was about getting together with friends on a Saturday afternoon and drinking a few beers afterward. The first time I drank Coors was in the back of a pickup truck after a game. I don’t remember anything about the game, but I remember thinking that Colorado’s most famous beer (rare in Indiana, at the time) we heard so much about tasted like any other beer.
I’m a closeted Patriots fan on the DL, what with societal approbation against the most hated team in football. Fans are discriminated against daily, especially on Thursday nights, Monday nights and Sundays. I wouldn’t dream of wearing that Flying Elvis cap out in public. I know that some people even want to ban Patriots fans from joining the military. I hope that one day, Patriots fans will be accepted into American culture and given full rights as with other minorities. Until then, I’ll have to live a double life.
I’ll continue to watch football as long as the players are not being kidnapped and forced into playing. If I had a young son, though, I wouldn’t let him play. If I had a grandson who was even remotely interested in playing football, I’d try my best to talk him out of it. Fortunately, he’s a musician which carries its own risk of brain damage.