Ain’t No Sunshine When You’re Gone

Super Bowl XLI is only hours away. It is designated in Roman numerals because that is not only pretentious and impressive, but the game itself is based on an ancient Roman pastime that we now call “War”. This why generally the game is loved predominantly by men. We revere armed conflict between adversaries.

We love war so much that we actually (I’m not making this up) volunteer to risk life and limb to protect our homeland and the citizens therein. And herein lies the rub.

Take Football (I believe the word is sacred, and should always be capitalized) away from us, and what outlet for our innately aggressive nature is left? After Football season the alleged “sport” of golf comes into full swing (get it?). These guys and ladies don’t even tote their own equipment, for chrissakes!

Then there’s tennis. I like to watch Sharapova, but think her grunts should be reserved for more appropriate occasions, exclusively with me.

Basketball is okay, but guys in shorts and sometime tights running back and forth from one incessant foul to the other seems to be better suited to the Richard Simmons crowd.

Hockey is cool, but my old eyes can’t discern a score until the replay slows the action down to a crawl.

That pretty much leaves baseball, another sport I love. But even baseball has shortcomings. I’m a Phillies fan…believe me, I know emptiness and heartache.

So Football will soon be gone for a very long time. Yes, I know that life will go on. But the proverbial glass will no longer be full. Stupid metaphors will no longer abound. Men will have to focus on actual reality (as opposed to imagined reality).

After Adam Vinatieri kicks that winning 47 yard field goal with 3 seconds left in the game, and the Colts become the Super Bowl Champions, life will lose a little luster, men will noticeably cut down on beer consumption, and pigeons will no more twitter in the trees.

But on the bright side…no, there is no bright side.