The Giants once again won. For you people who read this blog and don't care about football one iota you only have two more weeks of football analogies and what not before we get back to the regular fair of sex and dating stories, with a sprinkle of current event absurdism. For now, though, football is on the forefront of my mind (as it's the only thing that is really going well in my life, and yes I'm aware it is the part of my life I have the least effect on the outcome.)
Anyway. A year or so ago I attended a reading of unpublished essays by various non-famous readers. One woman got up and read an essay, the topic of which I can't remember but I do remember her talking about how there are only two types of women who like football. The first are girls who are trying to get laid by impressing men with their football watching. "Look fellas, I like what you like so therefore I'm worthy of marriage and/or sex." The other girls who watch football do so for some father reason. Basically, this women's contention was that women don't naturally like football. There is something when two X chromosomes get together that makes football watching impossible unless one has an ulterior motive. So much for feminism.
I found this lady's theory offensive. I don't know why. Probably because I'm quick to think people are judging me and out to get me, so why not this stranger reading an essay. Or perhaps because her gross generalizations don't apply to me. Of course I'm always trying to find a man, but not via football. I almost always watch football at home where I can jump up and down, yell and scream at the TV and God, do push ups in a hopes my physical efforts will somehow help a team of men I have never met. Basically I like to make a complete fool of myself in the privacy of my home. The way I watch football is like a girl--very emotional--men don't find that attractive. As for the father angle, my dad doesn't watch sports. He never has. He likes to cook and watch Matlock.
Where did my interest come from then? Simple. At the age of 7 or so my uncle Dom would call me up during football season me and ask me to help him pick the over/under for that week's NFL games. He'd also have a couple of games where he'd ask my advice on whether or not such and such a team would "cover the points." It was great! My uncle and I would have the sports section open in our respective homes and handicap the games. Being an assistant gambler gave me the opportunity to work on valuable reading and math skills as well as strengthen NJ, Italian-American stereo-types. And there it was I wanted to see if I made the right picks so I started watching football.
So you see, I'm into football not because I lacked love in my youth or am seeking it now, but because more than just my parents loved me. Even if one of those people loved me because of his superstitious belief that a child would help him win money.
Eventually I would graduate to horse race betting. At the age of 9 my parents accompanied by my aunt and Uncle Dom took me to Saratoga Springs. I was 9 years old and my family had faith in me that I could handle the complicated math that is associated with "The Track." You know odds, bargins on the board ect. But football had already corrupted me. I usually would pick the horse I thought had the most momentum going into his/her race.