I was a cheerleader in high school, but I never learned the rules. It was easy, I just did the routines when all the others did. It worked, and I wore the uniform; and then I never missed a ballgame for twenty years with Dr. Advice, whose advice was “don’t talk during the game.”
We met with friends for the weekly tailgate party at 9 or 10 in the morning, and ate great snacks and drank good wine, and then at the sensible hour of 12 or 1, we traipsed into our seats in whichever stadium we were. And I sat beside other women who didn’t know anymore about the game than I. We braved it out for 3-4 hours and then told each other we would see them next game. Today’s games don’t begin until 7:30 at night, so that TV can present them to people who stay up later than I.
Then my daughter got engaged to a football player at his university. For some reason I forget, I went to the game with my other daughter, who really WAS a cheerleader and who knew all the rules.
My daughter is kind, thoughtful and patient, and gave me a 3-4 hour primer on the game of football. I have to say, it makes the game infinitely more interesting when you know what’s going on! I still am unfamiliar with all the finer points, but I can live with that, and Dr. Advice is very proud of me anyway.
But one thing is still ridiculous to me. In baseball, so as to confuse the opponents, the catcher does strange things with his hands in front of his groin as he is squatting, so as to tell the pitcher what to throw, and even sillier in football is holding one’s hand over the mouth to whisper the plays. Some quarterbacks even wear a small electronic cheat sheet on their wrists to remind themselves of plays.
I have favorite teams I root for of course. The University of Washington, Cal and Stanford, though not when they are playing one another; then it’s a draw. Dr. Advice would disown me for rooting for Stanford, but I can’t help it, after all, they are just around the corner, so they really ARE the home team, and red is a great color!
colors is a no-no!