After an intensive evening of sitting in a packed stadium and watching college football with my father, all I can say is that I truly love sports with all of the blazing passion in my heart. The drunken fans yelling obscenities, the sweaty, burlesque men running around on the field, the tension of every play as the audience watches on with bated breath -- these are the moments that make life worthwhile.
And so what if the game is 4 hours long and it's midnight by the time I get home? And who cares if it's 40 degrees and windy, and my hands are so cold I can't feel them? I consider these sacrifices a blessing, if it only means that I can sit and soak up the sheer athleticism that is rising off the field in inspirational waves. Where others may find the cold, hard seats and blistery winds miserable, I find them invigorating. Such are the joys of a die-hard sports fanatic like myself!
Some people enjoy television; others like to read; but for me, there is nothing more enthralling than the act of watching tiny figures on a field try to move a ball 10 yards. The suspense of it all is almost unbearable: will they run 5 yards? Or 4? Or maybe 3.5? Every play is a mystery waiting to unfold! Whether it's a first down or a fourth, the sheer anticipation of squinting from my seat to make out the tiny ball inch across the field never seems to fade. I know it's crazy to dream, but in my wildest fantasies, I imagine heaven to be something along these lines: a never-ending football game of angels in spandex trying to run the ball 10 yards for ALL ETERNITY.... I can only dare to hope . Until I die, however, I'm afraid I will have to content myself to mere 4-hour increments of this sacred pass time. After all, my humanly body can only take so much excitement in one sitting.
Last night's game, in particular, was the stuff dreams are made of. The teams were tied the whole way through, the game went into double overtime (who cares if that means I had to freeze in my seat for a while longer?!?), and the tension in the stadium was so thick, you could cut it with a bread knife. And though I may be lying in bed with a throbbing headache at the moment (no doubt due the frigid cold I endured last night for FOUR HOURS), I cannot help but muse about my undying affection for all things sports-related. I do love football more than almost everything in the world, after all... Child slavery, drug addictions, the Holocaust -- in my humble opinion, football surpasses all of these things by great leaps and bounds!
As a wise man once told me, every moment spent NOT watching sports, is a moment of your life wasted away... How true these words ring out in my life! A day without sports is like a day without the sun. A Saturday without football is like a Saturday without food, clothing, shelter, friends, or even sanity. A minute spent reflecting on something other than my crazed love for athleticism is like a minute in the life of a prisoner whose head is being forcibly held under water until he slowly loses consciousness, deprived of the stuff that gives him life.... After all, a life without sports is really no life at all.
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