superbowl superbugs

I AM AT WORK THIS MORNING, the first of February, diddling away at my computer. The pest control guy, a big bald gruff with a true blue New Yak accent, has paused on his way out of our facility here in our receiving room, where I work alongside three red-meat men. It is the weekend before the Superbowl, and one little utterance, “you going for the Giants?” sets off an incredibly passionate and articulate conversation between three brutes of an otherwise limited vocabulary.

I am sitting here, rather amazed. These guys are talking stats, team histories, rookie stories, talkin’ ‘bout kids in college who “look good”, talking about strategy, offense, defense, player trades, contracts, etc… as if they were COACHES! Like they’ve invested in these teams. Well, as it turns out, they have, and begin talking about their personal gambling strategies for the bowl.

I’m sayin’, what an incredible amount of attention and passion these men save for football! Footballs get guys going. I’d be willing to bet that these guys are more invested in the superbowl than in the presidential elections… and I mean, considering our nation’s invincible money-run two-party system, I’m really not blaming them.

But this is what prompted me to write this blog – I try to put myself in their shoes, and I start to think… I really am the type of person who cannot obsess over anything that I can’t directly participate in. getting involved in football would just make me want to play, to experience it first-hand.

I love music, I love seeing my favorite bands play. But seriously, every time I see a musical performance, I don’t care who they are, I am wrought with anxiety! I want to DO IT, not watch it. One of my favorite bands has always been Radiohead, and when I finally got to see them live, it was one of the coolest live music experiences I can recall. But even then, there were times when all I wanted to do was run home and fire up the computer and grab a guitar and start recording. NOTHING can trump the feeling of that process, it’s truly an addiction, and it’s a condition that really defines me as a person.

When I visit MOMA or the MET, or go to an art opening and see work that blows me away, I am immediately inspired and I feel the pain. I want out, I want to get to work right away. This is one of the strongest, most driving forces in my life – to create… and when I am a spectator, I am writhing in a pool of excitement and inspiration, often uneasily until I can get home, get alone, and get to the drawing board.

So when I picture the football fan in me, I believe I’d be feeling the urge to play a pick-up game in the street, rather than watch the superbowl on Sunday. And what’s more – and why I believe I am NOT a fan of the sport, or any sport, for that matter – is because I imagine myself jumping over the stands and into the field and getting my little whimpy frame crushed to kibbles by elephantine brutes.

I back out of things I don’t excel at. I mean, I enjoy challenges… and I challenge myself / accept challenges in my own “fields of expertise” as often as possible, but when it came time to decide whether or not team sports would be a big part of my life – 7th grade – I felt totally confident in my decision to not try out for basketball despite the protests of my classmates (we had a small class – only 5 guys – and they sort of needed the extra body and couldn’t understand what I was thinking). At that age, you want to put your all into things you’re good at, into things that are somewhat rewarding, not punishing. I quit Tee-Ball too. Shortly after, so too died my enthusiasm for team sports, which had previously been bolstered by my wearing of ball caps, participating in neighborhood sports, and watching games on television.

Speaking of dying enthusiasm – as I watch the surprisingly articulate and sports-savvy pest control giant lumber out of our facility, I can’t help but imagine taking his lead. soon, soon…