Unofficial Officials and the Joys of the New NFL Season

Football season has started and no one is happier about that than I am.  I'm a Steeler's fan (I know...boo, hiss) and always will be.  That is, unless I move.  No, I'm not based in Pittsburgh, I'm in the heart of Bronco country.  But since my late husband decorated our entire basement in Steeler's paraphernalia (including painting the walls a combination of charcoal gray and yellow) it's just cheaper for me to root for the Steelers than it is to redecorate an entire floor of my house.

So, basically I'm a devoted Steeler's fan because my decor tells me to be.

I used to love football season because I wasn't a football fan at all.  As soon as the first kick was in the air at 11 AM, my husband would settle himself in for a day of television at which point I would say, "Well, since you're going to be here anyway and you can watch the kids (sort of), I guess I'll go shopping.  Just throw out a snack for them around halftime."

The weird thing is that I became more of a football fan after he died, mainly because I felt like someone needed to carry the Steelers torch in my Saints loving/Broncos devoted family.  I think my husband would be proud that I have carried on his tradition of "whoever you're going to root for, I'm going to pick the other team."  And in the last few years, I have gotten great enjoyment (as he did) pissing people off.  Just because I can.

The truth is, I don't really know the ins and outs of the game all that well.  I generally know when people are running in the right direction and can cheer accordingly, but when there is an actual penalty I very rarely know what it's for.  I guess I just don't have a knack for it because I spent my high school and college years at football games and then married a devoted fan and still haven't been able to grasp the details.  I'll never forget, about 2 years into our marriage, watching a Packer's game at a friend's house and asking loudly, "So...what exactly is a down?"

My husband stared at me in stunned silence and then said, "You don't know what a down is?"

I was embarrassed about that for years until one of my friends said, "That's nothing.  I once asked everyone at a party how they're able to paint that yellow line on the field so fast."

That made me feel better.

Football this year has been especially entertaining because of the officials.  For those of you who have been too busy watching tennis to know what's going on, the official officials are on strike and so we have been stuck with what one announcer called "6th string officials."  Apparently college football has taken what would have been the NFL's second, third, fourth, and fifth choices and has left professional football with bunch of guys who would usually be getting ready for duck hunting season right now.  Because every time a flag is thrown, you can see the panic on their faces as they convene to see what it was thrown for.

"Okay, who threw that?"

"Wasn't me."

"Not me."

"I just needed to blow my nose.  Sorry."

"Well, we have to come up with something.  How about a delay of game with too many players on the field, a false start, and a large pizza?"

"Sounds good."

My boyfriend has been particularly annoyed with all of the celebrating going on with the players this year.  It seems like after every play with a gain of 1/2 a yard, there is at least one guy who starts flapping his arms up and down like he's at a rave.

"What are you celebrating?" Mike will scream at the TV.  "You didn't do anything!"

We've only watched a handful of regular season games, but I think by the end of the season Mike will be petitioning the NFL for more armless players.

The celebrating doesn't annoy me.  I find it intriguing.  Is this a new side-effect of steroids?  Do these guys practice this?  Do they go home and stand in front of a full-length mirror and start pumping their arms up and down and then say, "No.  That's not quite it" and then start fluttering their legs back and forth like demented middle schoolers? 

More importantly, are their wives sitting at home watching them on TV, hands over their eyes saying, "Please don't do it.  Just this once."

I don't know.  Maybe it makes you feel really good to celebrate every little thing that happens in your life, like the gain of 2 inches (must be a man thing) or pummeling another guy into the ground so hard that his athletic cup shoots into his sock.

I really shouldn't judge before I try it.

From now on, when I pick my kids up at school (because the alternative is that I'll forget and leave them there), I'm going to jump up and down waving my hands yelling, "Yeah, baby!"  The second I put dinner on the table, I'm going to run a lap around the house saying, "WHO DAT?" over and over again.  If my kids successfully get their homework done, I'm going to demand a belly bump from each one of them and then get in their faces and scream, "You got this!"

I may look silly.  But at least I won't be doing it on national television.