Football Feign

I am, by no means, an athlete. Never was and never will be. For one, I can't stand the pressure of team sports: knowing I have a particular position I have to play, remembering all the rules, and having to deal with the prospect of letting other people down- it's a recipe for disaster for me.

So I don't really know how my friend Doug talked me into joining his touch-football league. Really, of any sport, why did it have to be football? I can manage OK in basketball, and actually enjoy soccer, but football and I don't get along. And we never have.

I seem to recall verbally groaning when flag football came around during gym class back in middle school. For one, I was almost always picked in the bottom bunch (and if the particularly inept kids were absent that day, I was the definite last man). But my classmates weren't dumb; they knew I wasn't going to be valuable to them. Secondly, the rules of football confused me, and having to try to learn it and play it in a matter of 35 minutes was a chore. Plus, I wasn't a fan of pain or really throwing myself into another body. So the combined humiliation of displaying my athletic inabilities and running around like a confused headless chicken , only to get slammed by a meaty 7th grader, was not something I was excited to experience.

Eventually my hatred cooled to just indifference to the sport, and happily our paths never crossed. Until Doug came along.

With the reassurance of it being more of a social club than serious sport, and the addition of a few fellow girls on the team that I was friends with, I finally agreed. I was able to put it out of my mind until finally the day of the first game arrived, last Sunday.

Joe also joined the team so I was happy that I would know several of the other players. As we walked up to the field where we would play I suddenly got that old pinch in my stomach. The fear couldn't be quelled any longer and suddenly I was panicking.

Luckily my girlfriend Carly was there, also describing her fears and anxieties, so I felt I was in good company.

When the ref called us in and explained the rules in a split second I made the mental decision I would simply run around chasing the people in orange and pray to God no one threw me the ball. This plan was short lived when the ref would call "something something GENDER" which I came to realize meant just the GIRLS could do the play, and with just me and Carly, chances were at one point the ball would be tossed my way.

Thankfully this didn't occur too often. Carly was a good sport and took the brunt of most of the gender passes. However at one point, one of my teammates finally decided to give me a try. I looked to get myself free (which, since I was gaining the reputation as being "not a a threat", no one ever really bothered to cover me). He tossed me the ball, nice and easy, and...a catch! I caught the damn thing! I was so thrilled I actually exclaimed, "I CAUGHT it!"

My excitement was short lived when the ref blew his whistle and explained the pass was no good...since I had caught it BEHIND the line of scrimmage.

Still, I couldn't help but be slightly proud. It was maybe the first time I had caught a football during an actual game. I should savor the moment- with only 7 or 8 more games, chances are it may not happen again!

Ravin' Fans

My fellow temps and I decided to take a lunch out the other day and as we walked into the Panera, we ordered and picked up our lunches and we sought a place to sit. We chatted lightly and as I looked around I was amazed at all the purple surrounding us. Everywhere I looked men, women, even kids, were sporting Ravens jerseys. And if anyone didn't have a jersey, they were at least wearing a dark shade of purple. One man, who was getting up from his table remarked jovially to us, saying "Can't believe they let her in here without purple on!" (indicating one of the girls). That set us on the conversation about the game, which they both partook of, while I sipped my broccoli cheddar soup and thought about my relationship with football.

As I'm pretty sure I've made abundantly clear, I'm not much of a football fanatic. I was forced to play flag football as a kid in gym class, and when it comes to watching games, I usually preferred something--ANYTHING--instead. And while I always thought I wasn't alone on this, especially with the female population, as I went to college I really began to notice that everyone, girls included, would clamor in front of the television to watch a football game. It started with the Towson Tigers, then the craze among my friends became all about the Ravens.

In the beginning I found the whole game amazingly frustrating. My friends talked me into going with them to a Towson Tigers game, and in between their excited hoots and hollers they tried painstakingly to explain the game to me. Still, I found with every answer at least five more questions to ask. And if it wasn't frustrating, it was boring. Way too often the game would just stop, right when I was finally getting excited about some action. I ended up tuning out before the dance team and school band took the field. I chalked it up to just "not being my thing."

I also never felt the pressure to invest much interest because my high school boyfriend wasn't much of a fan either. Though I often wished he had been, I also enjoyed the fact that he never insisted on canceling plans to watch or force me to join him. Years later, when I took up with Joe, things changed. Not only was he a fan, he used to play in high school. Suddenly the fall meant apple picking, scary movies, and football-watching.

Joe tried to get me into the games, but for the most part my eyes glazed over or I'd sneak away to watch something else. Then, when the Giants were in the Superbowl he INSISTED I go with him to watch at the local sports bar. I'd agreed, trying to be a good sport, and much to my surprise I actually had a good time. I found myself cheering along or ooh-ing whenever a player got "sacked" (i think that's the term).

And last year, when our office had a Superbowl pool going I actually won $100! I thought, if this is football, I can get in on this. Still, though I doubt I'll ever be a true fan of the game, I do like what football does for the town, especially with the Ravens.

There's something comforting in the unity it brings to the citizens of Baltimore. You get a certain pride when you drive into the city and see the skyscrapers with big beams of purple light extending up their length. I like the camaraderie that comes with watching the games together, how the tailgating is an event of its own, with all the food and drinks and talking. I even like when I open a local supermarket circular and I see something called the "Flacco Italian Submarine".

Baltimore gets alot of crap for it's drug and violence-related reputation. But for a little while the city turns into a small town, with everyone rooting for the same thing, high-fiving strangers and sharing their own knowledge of the game. And it lasts...well, at least until November.