One sunny afternoon when I could be throwing a Frisbee in a grassy park or digging my toes into the hot sand at Fort Warden beach, I instead find myself watching preseason football and enjoying it immensely. Is something wrong with me? How can I waste such a gorgeous summer day—especially when there are so few of these days left this year—sitting inside, watching grown men hurl their unusually large bodies at one another in an apparent effort to carry an oblong toy to the other end of a field? According to my girlfriend, I’m deranged.
Perhaps she’s right. I agree that watching television on a perfect summer afternoon is generally bad for my mind, body and soul, but I can’t help myself and apparently I’m not the only one.
According to PilotOnline.com, the Hall of Fame Game between the Dallas Cowboys and Cincinnati Bengals “drew the highest NFL preseason [television] ratings in six years,” indicating that while many more of us should be enjoying the sunshine, too many of us are so excited about the upcoming season that we’ll waste our time watching a terribly sloppy game, which is mostly played—except for the first possession—by perennial benchwarmers and unproven rookies.
While the game was low-scoring and filled with penalties, it remained interesting simply because it was football and that’s why I, along with millions of other people, kept watching.
When the Mariners are losing, like they have been for the past few season, the summer contains an alarming paucity of interesting sports for Northwest fans. Granted, the Sounders are always entertaining and the Storm are in the playoffs, but while the popularity of these sports is on the rise, they cannot yet compete with the nationwide fanaticism that accompanies football.
Something deeply prideful, and deeply local, overcomes people when their football team is winning. Qwest Field will erupt like a volcano when the Seahawks run onto the turf on September 12th for the first regular-season game against the San Francisco 49ers. There are few other places on earth where you can see full-grown adults screaming at the top of their lungs for three hours straight. Even if their throats are sore, they will be screaming.
Yesterday it was raining and the crisp smell of fall reminded me of two things: mushrooms and football. Whether it be the Seahawks, the Huskies, or the Cougars, there are hard hits and deep balls on just the other side of the tunnel. And I can hardly wait. Like the rest of America, I’m ready for some football.
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