Sunday blues are no more. I know that tomorrow is Monday, and the work week starts all over again, but Sundays are wonderful now because of football. I love it. I love my team, even when they are, um, inconsistent. But I love them so much more when they’re good and they win. So, Sundays are great in my book. Thank you, NFL. That being said, here are the reasons I could never play football (professionally or otherwise).
Reason #1: I am not in good enough shape. I’m not even talking about like RUNNING BACK shape, either. Have you seen the defensive players? They are roughly 1,000 pounds. They sweat when they bend over at the line of scrimmage. And I imagine that 90% of their weight is straight up French fries and pizza. But even these guys get more exercise than me. I mean, I could PROBABLY beat them in the Sit n’ Reach, but that’s of little consolation. There’s not one position I could play on the field. Sure I played soccer for 17 years, so I could MAYBE try for a kicking position, but even that’s pretty far-fetched. My hands are tiny, I’d drop the ball. And even if I held onto it, I’d probably only be able to kick it about 25 feet.
Reason #2: I would cry. I don’t know how these guys don’t just sit on the field after getting smashed by two ginormotrons and have themselves a good cry. Plus, have you heard the kind of mean things these guys say to each other? Sticks and stones will break my bones, sure. But words will ALSO hurt me. If I dropped the ball, or missed a tackle, I’d be sitting on the sidelines blubbering, “But they were YELLING at me! Right in my face! They wouldn’t leave me alone! Why won‘t they just shut up?” But mostly, it’s the physical contact. My eyes start watering when I stub my toe. If I got hit late, or I wasn’t expecting it, I’d just start crying and say that my knee hurt so I could go to the locker room and sit in the shower with my uniform on and just cry.
Reason #3: I don’t have the focus. When I played soccer in high school, I’d play terribly if a guy I liked came to watch. I’d be distracted by who he was talking to, wondering if he’s looking at me, or thinking about how good that pretzel he’s eating looks. There are a LOT of distracting things at football games. I would dance around to the music in between plays, tuning out the audibles. I’d be looking up at the Kiss Cam to see if anything embarrassing happens. I’d try and count how many people were wearing my jersey, or how many people painted signs that expressed their love for me. I’d constantly be wondering if I looked fat in the spandex pants and would miss the snap completely because I’d be checking myself out on the Jumbtron to see if I had panty lines. Game? What game?
Reason #4: I don’t like people getting all up in my personal space. All the butt-slapping, helmet-bumping and shoulder slamming that goes on would drive me nuts. I like the idea of huddles, and telling each other secrets or whatever they do in there, but that’s as close as I want to get. Stop spanking me. Stop coming up behind me and smacking my helmet. And for God’s sake, stop jumping on top of me after I get a touchdown. I know it was a good play, but instead of suffocating me, just give me a high five, or a firm handshake.
Reason #5:Finally, I couldn’t be a football player because it just sounds like a lot of work. All those practices and games? Sheesh. Plus, they work on nights and weekends and that’s when I do some of my best napping.
So, despite the thousands of offers I’ve received to try out, I’m going to have to just come right out and say Thanks, But No Thanks, NFL. I’m sure you’ll find a way to go on without me on your team.