Coming Up For Air
For almost two straight weeks I have found myself immersed in a sea of football, and I’m finally coming up for air. My life jacket is made up of a very thin grasp on reality, and mercifully, it was strong enough to rise me up above the madness that has taken me over - even if only temporarily. I’m not sure how long I can remain afloat to parlay a few coherent thoughts here. Strong currents pull at my feet with the power of a thousand linebackers, imploring me to submerge my entire being into the madness once again.
For these past couple of weekends offering up a full slate of college and pro games, I have been a stalwart of consistency, with nary an absence from my football chair. With the exception of bathroom/beer runs, or getting up to pay the pizza guy, I have been in the exact same spot for hours on end. Sure, it’s a tad pathetic, but I have to admit that I’m quite impressed with my dedication. I’m 100% convinced that a missile could strike my house, and all that would remain would be me, my chair, the flat-screen and the sounds of a man possessed, urging on giant men thousands of miles away to get Bread paid. Sorry ladies, but I’m taken.
Yea, Bread pro
At some point soon I will leave the house on a Saturday or Sunday. I know I can do it because I did it last year. Robyn and I set out right about college kickoff time and went to spend a day at the park. You know, normal people stuff. We played Frisbee and fed the duckies and the squirrels. It was great.
The most amazing aspect of that day wasn’t spending time with my loving wife, or connecting with nature on a beautiful day. It was discovering my ability to hide my inner anxiety for missing football games. I felt jumpy and wore an ever-so-thin layer of cold sweats, but I couldn’t let Robyn see this. Those are the signs of a sick person. So I would “accidentally” throw the Frisbee 20-feet over her head, and as she turned to retrieve it, I’d feverishly scratch my head and neck like a neurotic crack head.
I also mastered the art of throwing a peanut to the squirrels in an underhanded fashion, following through seamlessly, in an upward motion to wipe the nervous sweat from my brow. I tried to reach my buddies telepathically to find out the Idaho-New Mexico State score. Only one replied and said that I was sick for betting such an obscure game. Being so wrapped up in my telepathy session, I never saw the Frisbee coming as it cracked me in the skull. Never realized Robyn had such a good arm.
But I made it through the day in one piece, and I’m sure I’ll do it again sometime this year. The good news is that Robyn broke her foot, so until that heals, I’m probably safe to remain in my football cave for quite a few weekends to come! No wait, I don’t think that came out right…
If you can draw up an image of a person surrounded by newspapers, betting sheets, remote controls, beer bottles, pens, highlighters, cell phone and laptop, for upwards of 12 hours straight, it probably leaves you feeling a bit sad for the guy in question. But it’s only pathetic if you’re losing, and thus far, I am not. So don’t cry for me, Argentina. Bread’s got it goin’ on.
I’ve made some new friends like Colt’s receiver Pierre Garcon (thanks Petey Boy!) and some new foes like Filthy Penny. I’ve been hitting in NFL, and even college (notoriously cruel sport for me), which I started a thread to follow how much of a beating the NCAA’s would shell out. Thus far I’m 19-17-1, +4.35 units in the college game. I know it’s early on, and the drubbing will come eventually, but for the time being, all is good in my football world.
I’ve gotten paid in the world famous SBR Beat the Prick contest in each of the first two weeks. This, I actually feel a sliver of guilt for, as topping The Prick’s picks is almost as easy as stealing kisses from RogueScholar.
The Prick = Second source of income
Well it’s been great sharing a few thoughts with you, but I’m already starting to get drawn back in by Thursday’s Mississippi-South Carolina game. I’ve only got a few moments before I’m sucked back in. It will start out with just tip toeing knee-deep on Thursday, then wading in up to my waist for Friday’s Missouri-Nevada matchup. Then by the time Saturday rolls around, it’s a full blown deluge of pigskin profitability possibilities! Feel free to send me a postcard from my driveway, because I won’t make it that far for awhile. Gotta go!
