Life is full of controversies and scandals. Blasted across newspaper headlines and television are dozens of affairs, arrests, arson, tax evasion, malpractice, murders…it’s all out there. I thought I had seen everything. And then came this football deflation fiasco. (For those of you who do not know to what I am referring, it is so not important, just google Patriots are Cheaters…)
Really? I don’t hear enough comments about balls—baseballs, soccer balls, tennis balls…come on—enough is enough! I live in a house with all boys, this was the last thing I needed….I do not need more material on this subject matter, as I, unfortunately, have become an expert!!
Son #3 made me watch the Tom Brady press conference. Dude, the man is married to one of the best looking women on the planet, do you think he really cares if anyone thinks he deflated some balls? Is there an FBI investigation underway? Will his salary be cut? Will he be banned from the Superbowl? Put on the no-fly list? No, of course not, nothing is going to happen to that man except for the fact that he will still get paid way too much money to throw a football—deflated, over-inflated or otherwise (and he will still go home to his gorgeous wife, who, according to Hollywood standards, isn’t set to divorce him for at least another four years).
Now some of you know that, as a boy mom, I have been subjected to the viewing of many sports; some I like and some I do not. I do not like football. I speak often of the Vikings, the Rams and the Panthers, but I have never actually watched an entire game. I know about Adrian Peterson, Sam Bradford and Cam Newton because they are on those teams (not sure about the Bradford one, but who really cares). I only like those teams because my sons like those teams and the way to your sons’ hearts is through their interests, even if they make fun of me because I think the yellow lines are on the field when they are actually not. Stupid game. And every year, like the sun rises in the east and sets in the west (or vice versa, I never remember) The whole season of ignoring mom when the games are on comes to a grand finale on Superbowl Sunday, brought to you by Pepsi, Cialis, Taco Bell and the makers of foam fingers. Stupid game.
Yet, we play into the whole thing. Superbowl parties—who invented these? Is it the guy who invented the hero sandwich? (And I say guy and not girl because what girl would invent a sandwich like that? They make a huge mess and they aren’t easy to eat…and this is coming from someone who eats.) There are always those women who are “into sports” and sit on the couch, walk the walk and talk the talk. “Make the kick! Interception! Fumble!”
What language are you speaking? I am not one of those women. I am the woman who wants to see the over-hyped commercials. I am the woman who wants to watch the half time show if it is with a musician who I have actually heard of. I am the woman in the kitchen who is looking through her friend’s cabinets trying to find the mind-numbing beverages. Is that wrong??
Every supermarket and restaurant has an ad touting their wares for the big game. For $12 a person, they will give you heroes (and not the hot firefighter kind, the kind I mentioned before) coleslaw, potato salad, pickles and a big jar of antacid for all those men over 40 with reflux. For an extra dollar a person, they will throw in some French fries, onion rings and a defibrillator. Now that’s classy!
Yes, sports bring people together. It doesn’t matter what color you are or what language you speak, sports are the international past time. The Super Bowl has become an American institution. It brings jobs to whatever city it is located in… yada yada yad. But let’s get real people, isn’t football just an excuse for men to say, “I will help you in a minute honey, it is almost halftime.” Deflated football…stupid game. Let’s go Devils!!
(I LOVE the Devils. They don’t play with balls.)
Banji Ganchrow is a self-proclaimed writer who is trying to find out who keeps leaving their laundry on the floor of the bathroom…
By Banji Latkin Ganchrow
