What I Know About Football

For most of my life, my attitude toward football has been indifference mixed with a little disdain. I had no interest in understanding its rules; it looked barbaric and chaotic. Men in suits commenting on the plays. Men on the sidelines calling the plays. Men on the field chasing and tackling each other. Men in bars and on couches cheering. Men men men men men. The only women you really see or hear about are the egregiously underpaid cheerleaders and the wives and girlfriends who make headlines when a player gets suspended for beating them.

In spite of this, I have always made a habit of watching the Super Bowl, and sometimes even hosting a viewing party. But that's only because I like spectacle and taco dip. The halftime show is always a shitshow for one reason or another (wardrobe malfunctions! left shark!) and the ads are usually amusing. And let's be real, I will jump on any excuse to entertain -- I love throwing parties. Oscar parties, election night parties, and sure, even Super Bowl parties. When it comes to parties, I don't discriminate. I never cared about the actual outcome of a Super Bowl game -- I would just randomly pick a team to root for, and be only mildly disappointed if they lost.

But as Elphaba in Wicked would say, something has changed within me. Something is not the same.

I sort of like watching football now. (I am actually watching the Broncos/Steelers game as I write this. Go Broncos!)

I know. It's crazy. But I live in Wisconsin, the state with the most notoriously rabid and devoted NFL fan base. Inevitably, I started watching more games -- purely for social purposes. Everyone knows when the Packers are playing. And when there's a game, the streets in Eau Claire are like a ghost down, eerily deserted. Because literally nearly everyone is glued to their TVs. Bars that don't serve food regularly have free food on game days -- crockpots of deliciousness, hot dishes galore, lemon and lime jello shots at the ready. 

The more I saw, the more I had to (somewhat begrudgingly) respect the complexity of the game. Because it really is complex. And the athleticism is astounding. It doesn't hurt that Aaron Rodgers is easy on the eyes AND the king of Hail Mary passes. Seriously. So for the first time in my life, I actually self-identify as a fan of a professional sports team. I am a Cheesehead. And I am proud. I am seriously considering buying Packer paraphernalia.

Now I would like to show off some of the things I have learned, mostly from watching with people who have been watching football their entire lives. Every game I feel like I learn something new!

1. It is important to "protect the pocket." I think this refers to keeping the quarterback from getting sacked before he can throw the ball. The pocket "collapsing" is bad for the offense. I think.

2. A football team is really like several teams! There are the offense guys and the defense guys, and the special teams guys like kickers. I JUST LEARNED THIS!  I had no idea the quarterback didn't play the whole game. Mind. Blown.

3. People talk a lot about "the line of scrimmage." Important shit goes on there. I'm not sure exactly what. Regardless, "scrimmage" is a fun word to say. Also fun: "blitz."  

4. Penalties can be declined. I find this a little confusing, to be honest -- in other sports, I'm pretty sure fouls are fouls.

5. Time outs are not just breaks -- they are strategic ways to slow down the game and are often reserved for the final minutes. But the clock also stops during a time out, so I'm not sure how that works. Maybe it can break the other team's momentum? I just know that if a team still has all their time outs toward the end of the game, and they are losing, it's good that they have those time outs. For some reason.

6. There are tricks! I just learned about fake punts, when the punt team (another team!) comes on the field, but then instead of punting, the QB runs a play. They fake out the other team, and it's sneaky.

7. Everyone is guilty of holding, but the goal is to not get called on it. And which way your body is facing can mean the difference between getting busted for pass interference and....no pass interference.

8. Fumbles are exactly what they sound like. Adrian Peterson fumbles a lot, which is a bummer for Vikings fans.

9. Onside kicks are rarely successful but are exciting to watch.

10. Calling a time out right before a field goal is called "icing the kicker" so he might get psyched out and miss. It's kind of mean, in my opinion. Dude's been waiting to whole game to do his thing, so just let him, alright?

I'm really impressed with my knowledge. But not as impressed as I am with Aaron Rodgers's arm.


 

Crying at the gym

I know you've probably heard numerous people say they hate the gym, but I really think I hate it more than anyone else. For instance, have you ever heard of someone sobbing uncontrollably while working out? Well, now you have.

Let me back up.

Every time I move to a new city, I face the decision of whether or not to join a gym.  I belonged to Crunch (R.I.P.) my first two years in New York, and actually faithfully went a few times a week, then New York Sports Club (which I think I literally went to twice in two years). In Boston, I did yoga at a studio in my neighborhood and, in my final months, joined GymIt, a bare-bones $20/month no-commitment gym.

Here in Chicago, my roommate is a member at Fitness Formula Club and there's a location literally across the street from where we live. I hemmed and hawed and toured the place and finally decided to join. My biggest issue so far is that everyone I see at this gym is already perfectly in shape. I'm the only one who looks like I need to be there. And the classes have been all over the place -- I went to a step aerobics class that was kind of advanced (I couldn't keep up with the choreo so I just gave up and just started doing my own thing) and then a yoga class that was annoyingly remedial.

The sobbing came about during my one free session with a personal trainer, a chipper, well-meaning 5'3" man named Juan who speaks so quickly and with such a heavy accent that I only catch about 1/3 of what he says to me. Juan did an assessment of my strength prior to our session, in which it was determined that I basically have none.

I was dreading our actual session and I didn't really understand why until after I broke down crying in between sets of squats and these horrible things called "plank scissors." You see, the gym reminds me of all the humiliation I felt growing up due to being the most unathletic person on the planet.

You think I'm exaggerating, but seriously, I'm the worst. I'm not strong. I don't have good hand-eye coordination or balance. I've never been fast and once my boobs came in, it was clear I never would be. I'm flexible, hence my ability to do yoga, but that's my only physical gift. And from age to 6 to 18, I was reminded on a daily basis in gym class how inept I was. And when you're a kid, being good at sports = being good at life. Everyone sees how good/bad you are in gym. I may have been getting good grades, but I wasn't able to really brag about that. And every time I was introduced to a new sport, I felt this desperate glimmer of hope: maybe this will be the one I'm good at. So what that I couldn't play tennis, maybe soccer would be my sport. Ok, soccer's not my thing, but maybe I'll surprise everyone and be an amazing basketball player in spite of my petite stature. Or hey, maybe my stocky legs and broad shoulders will make me a total animal on the swim team.

But just like in a Richard Yates story, I experienced soul-crushing disappointment when I failed. The inner monologue of "I suck" returned with a vengeance. And what I have realized is that all those feelings come back, PTSD-style, when I'm at the gym. Just walking into the facility makes my heart race and my palms sweat. All my successes in life recede and I'm back in 4th grade, picked last for kickball AGAIN. All I can think about is how ridiculous I must look, flailing around on whatever equipment I happen to be on. How hopeless I am and what a waste of time it is for me to work out, when who I am kidding, I'm never going to be toned and firm. Italian women are soft and curvy, so I'm fighting an uphill battle against my genes.

Juan didn't really do anything wrong. He just happened to be there when I was at my most vulnerable and he was pushing me, which is his job. But something snapped and the next thing I knew, I was blubbering about being out of shape and having a shitty metabolism and apologizing for how much I sucked at all the exercises he was teaching me. I was BAWLING. On the floor. At the gym. Juan felt so bad he offered me a bunch of free sessions. I politely declined.

I will keep going, but one-on-one with a trainer is too much pressure. I prefer the anonymity of group classes or machines where I can watch TLC shows like "Say Yes to the Dress: Big Bliss" and "Teen Moms" and feel a little less bad about myself.

Things are happening

I finally feel settled enough in my new home in Chicago to report on what my life is like here. After a slow and slightly lonely start (thank God for the Olympics, which made staying in every night watching TV seem like an acceptable thing to do), things are finally happening. Good, exciting things. Such as:

1) I got into a choir

In Chicago, a lot of choral groups hold their auditions in spring, as opposed to late summer, so many of the groups I was interested in had already accepted their new members for the upcoming season. It was looking like I'd only be able to share my vocal stylings with my fellow drunk patrons in karaoke bars. But I auditioned for The Apollo Chorus this week, and despite my inability to sightread bass clef (which led me to accidentally curse in the audition -- oops), I have been invited to join their Alto 1 section. With 110 members, Apollo will be the biggest choir I have ever been a part of. It's also the oldest choral organization in the country. They have performed Handel's Messiah every December since 1879. That's a lot of Halleluias.

And speaking of halleluia-- 

2) I am employed

As of the day I left Boston, I had nothing locked down job-wise. The interview I had in July for a lecturer position at Roosevelt University didn't result in an offer....but they did like me enough to offer me adjunct work. I am teaching two sections of English 101 (Intro to Composition) and so far, I'm really enjoying it. Roosevelt's rhet & comp program is just similar enough to Emerson's that I feel like I know what I'm doing, but just different enough to feel new and fresh. And the students are cool -- there are less scowling hipsters, to be sure, but so far, they seem ready to work and learn (with the exception of the girl who, when I asked her after class why she refused to participate in a group activity, said she "just wasn't feeling it").

3) The Big Quiz Thing is coming to Chicago, with me as the host/quizmistress

After side-kicking/Vanna White-ing in Boston with Quizmaster Noah for two years, I have earned my hosting wings and will be helping launch the Chicago edition. Starting Oct. 4, I will be hosting the best live game show spectacular on either side of the Mississippi on the first Thursday of every month. The venue: Uncommon Ground in Edgewater. More details soon....but if you're in the Chicago area or have friends there, please encourage them to check it out. I REALLY want to be a D-list Chicago celebrity by the end of the year.  

I am repurposing a silly Funkin' A! picture for promotional purposes:

             I look kind of like a game show host, right?

For the full event details, visit the Facebook event page!

4) The Food Committee is finally under one roof

My best friend Jon is the co-founder of the Food Committee, a very, very exclusive organization dedicated to eating only really excellent food in excellent company. And now, we're roommates (as well as Elite Yelpers) and can take our culinary adventures to the next level. I am convinced that Chicago is the best restaurant city in the country (yes, even better than NYC) and I vow that no meal shall be wasted.

5) I have located my CSO

CSO = coffee shop office. I am notoriously bad at getting any work done at home, so finding a place nearby with wifi and decent coffee is essential. I was about to give up on my neighborhood when I stumbled upon Eva's Cafe. It's kind of on a sketchy, weird block, but it's adorable and has good, cheap food and reliable wireless. This is where I will be pretty much every day I'm not teaching. It's where I am now, in fact.

6) I went to my first Cubs game at Wrigley Field (and obviously, they lost)

Baseball is the only sport I even remotely care about, and I love rooting for underdog teams. The Cubs are, therefore, totally deserving of my support. Except when they play the Cardinals, of course. Then all bets are off.

7) The cats are getting along

Actually, this is a lie. They are better than they were a month ago, but there's still a lot of hissing (Maude), growling (Maude), and food-stealing (Meaty). But occasionally they occupy the same room and ignore each other peacefully. So that's something. 

8) I'm kinda sorta maybe possibly perhaps dating someone. And that's all I have to say about that.  

     

That's all the news that's fit to print at the moment. Happy Friday and God bless you and these United States of America. (Yeah, I have been watching too many convention speeches).

Sports

Wow, I can't believe it's been several weeks since my last post. Guess I got swept up in Bruins playoff fervor!!!!!!!


If you've ever met me, you will know the above statement is false.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that they won the Stanley Cup. I was less thrilled that the streets of Boston were filled with loud, drunk people last night. What is about sports fans running up to people and screaming in their faces? What is the purpose of that?

I spent last night doing the exact opposite of watching the game: I went to a literary magazine launch party/author reading and then took in the latest Woody Allen film. I was listening to poetry when the Bruins scored their first goal.

Sports fandom has always mystified me. It's not dissimilar to religious fervor. Fans can't control or predict whether their team will win, but they believe they can win and more importantly, SHOULD win. The chants of "U-S-A! U-S-A!" confused me last night, until I remembered that we beat a team FROM ANOTHER COUNTRY, making the victory all the more sweet. It was a triumph for AMERICA, you guys. We might as well have been playing [insert dangerous Middle Eastern country du jour] or Libya or North Korea.

Most likely my dislike of sports stems from my complete and utter inability to play them well. Watching sports churns up feelings of inadequacy dating back to my middle school and high school days. I am uncoordinated and not fast, nor am I graceful or agile. I am a good swimmer and a decent skier, but anything that requires hitting, passing, kicking, throwing or catching a ball is beyond my capabilities.

I had the misfortune to attend a high school where sports were very important and all students were forced to play a team sport two out of the three seasons. The real athletes hated this policy because people like me were bringing them down and the non-athletes hated this policy for obvious reasons. Not being athletic was just another strike against me, right alongside not having a sufficiently WASPy name or driving an SUV. And since I wasn't good enough to really play on any teams, I had to suffer the indignity of being the "manager" -- i.e. running the scoreboard at games, putting the equipment away after practice. One afternoon during my duties as JV Girls Volleyball manager, my "teammates" decided it would be funny to spike volleyballs...at me.

So yeah, I guess it's no wonder that I'm not a fan of sports or sports fans. Musical theater fans are much more my speed -- I mean, no one got stabbed after the Tony Awards.

I couldn't care less about....

In college, my friends and I used to play a game where we would take turns stating issues/events/people that we couldn't care less about. The more controversial (i.e. "global warming," "who killed JonBenet"), the better. Behold my current list of things that people around me seem to give a shit about, much to my disbelief.

1. March Madness

Is it over yet? I'm so tired of hearing about brackets and seeds and how [insert college] got robbed. For some reason, the NCAA championship irks me more any other major sports tournament. I like watching the Superbowl and I always sort of follow the World Series. I didn't go to a school where basketball was at all important, so maybe that's the issue? I don't know.


2. Who wins this season of American Idol

I usually watch AI, but this season I can't seem to muster up the energy. Recent winners have been lackluster (Jordin Sparks? Seriously?) and I just can't pretend anymore that these people deserve fame and record deals. Even Paula's insanity has lost its charm. I wish we could just fast-forward to May and So You Think You Can Dance!

3. How wasted you were last night

So, BU kids on the B line? SHUT THE FUCK UP.

4. Failing banks

Clearly I should care about this. But I just keep thinking about the awesome scene in It's a Wonderful Life when there's a run on the bank and everyone wants their money back from Bailey Building & Loan. Check it out:




Maybe if Citibank fails, Obama would make us all sandwiches or something. I don't keep much money in the bank, so I'm not too concerned. Now, if there was a possibility that the shoebox under my bed might fail, then I'd be worried.

(Note to would-be burglars: I do not actually keep money in a shoebox under my bed.)

5. The fictional Angelina Jolie/Jennifer Aniston feud

Obviously, there is no feud. But if there were....Team Aniston all the way!

Boola Boola

As some of you may know, this Saturday marks the 125th anniversary of the Harvard-Yale Football Game, an event categorized by immense anticipation, binge drinking, and very poor athleticism.

In case you are not sure which team to root for, let me help you out. First, click here for some appropriate music to play while you read.

1. Yale's team is the Bulldogs. Bulldogs are cute and feisty (just like me!)

Harvard's team (and their daily newspaper) is the Crimson, which reminds me of my period, as well as that scene in "Clueless" when Alicia Silverstone tells Wallace Shawn she is "surfing the crimson wave." To summarize: yuck.

2. BILL CLINTON went to Yale! George Bush also went to Yale.


3. Yale's fight songs were written by Cole Porter. Perhaps you've heard of him?

4. The Yale Precision Marching Band, in addition to featuring standard band instruments, includes violins, bagpipes, accordions, keyboards, cowbells, triangles, and air guitars. Their halftime shows are more about pyrotechnics than fancypants formations. Basically, they like to blow shit up on the field.

5. Harvard sucks (and Princeton doesn't matter).

There are too many other reasons to list here, but basically, GO ELIS, and wear blue on Saturday! If you're in the Cambridge area, visit me Friday night at Hong Kong in Harvard Square or track me down at the Yale Club of Boston's tailgate on Saturday.