Football

This is the time of year when women become widows. Not because their husbands die, but because they are lost to the many bowl games being played by college teams and by the playoff games of the National Football League.

I love football. The roots of this trait of mine do not run particularly deep in the seedbed. I don't remember either of my grandfathers being football fans. Oh, but my Dad! He was a football fanatic! He also enjoyed boxing and baseball, but his joy was watching football.

Speaking of baseball, Dad took me and a friend to see the Texas Rangers play the New York Yankees back in the 1970s. I remember that for some reason we were seated amongst a group of Yankees fans (we were hardcore Rangers fans). The Yankees were winning, which irritated my Dad quite a bit. And to top it off, my Dad really didn't like Yankee's manager Billy Martin. So, at one point, Billy Martin came out of the dugout to complain to the umpire about a particular call. My dad got agitated. "Throw the bum out!" He yelled. "Throw the bum out!" The Yankees fans around us were getting a little edgy and I began to think that we were going to have to fight our way out of there. Then the unthinkable happened. The umpire agreed with Billy Martin and reversed his call. My Dad was beside himself. He was on his feet, yelling, "Throw the ump out! Throw the ump out!" Well, the Yankees went on to beat the Rangers and we did make it out alive, no thanks to Dad.

But Dad loved football most of all. His team was the Dallas Cowboys. He had the greatest respect for coach Tom Landry. It was sometimes more entertaining to watch Dad than to watch the game. He would get so animated. And if his Cowboys weren't playing well, then the abuse would begin to flow from his lips as it only can from a spurned admirer.

"So the Cowboys decided to suit up their grandmothers today instead of playing the game themselves!"

"Ohhhhhhhh! What was he thinking?"

"Don't be scared of it! Tuck that ball away!"

"Run! Run! Run! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fumble in the end zone! Butter fingers!!!!!!"

But when they were doing well...

"Look at him run!!! Go! Go! Go!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Touchdown!!!!!"

"How 'bout them Cowboys?!"

As a rebellious teen, I decided to root against Dallas in Super Bowl XII, on January 15, 1978. Dallas soundly beat Denver 27-10, but I decided to adopt Denver as my team just like Dad had adopted the Cowboys as his. I got to enjoy the entire career of John Elway and see the Broncos lose several Super Bowls before they won two in a row.

As for college football, my Dad loved the Oklahoma Sooners. Now, he enjoyed seeing the OSU Cowboys win, but his team was the Sooners. I grew up in the Barry Switzer era. My Dad hated Barry Switzer one minute and loved him the next. He always argued with the coaches, the refs, the players, and the announcers on TV. He especially enjoyed arguing with Howard Cosell on Monday Night Football, and with John Madden. He liked them both, but yelled at them more than any other announcers. "Would somebody please take Madden's crayon away from him!"

It's a lot like Davy and I argue with Phil Sims nowadays. "Shut the heck up, Phil."

When it came to college bowl season, my Dad loved the underdogs. He passed that tendency on to me. Give me a game between two teams that I really don't care about and I will always choose the underdog to root for.

Oh, yes, we mustn't forget the food. Food is an essential part of football viewing. There must be a bottle of Dr. Pepper, a can of nuts, and a bowl of popcorn.