Ramblings Post #277
Sport is visceral. You can apply with and wisdom to it, study it and dissect it, review and parse it out in the pieces which you imagine can be improved, but then you will miss the entire point. We feel sport. It can, for a distinct instant, focus the minds of millions on a single thought. Turn the meek into raging beasts. It is sport. And it is good.
I have reached that point in the Cowboys season where my nerves get bad. Where I find myself yelling at the TV, wailing in agony at missed opportunities and sometimes turning the game off in frustration, only to turn it back on again a few minutes later and start the whole process over again. I can't eat, and definitely don't drink. It is something I am not proud of. It's why I prefer to watch the game alone, not even with other Cowboy fans.
And in the those situations where the Boys lose? I think by now even my mother has figured out to wait a few days before calling. And that the last few seasons have been marred by last game failures, I'm almost certain that my blood pressure could be fifteen to twenty points lower with a few more run calls.
So last night.
I'm supposed to have an earlier bedtime, so I'll use that as an excuse as to why I didn't watch the ending, but why I couldn't watch the start is another story. I toyed around with the idea of actually watching the beginning, mildly superstitious and just a little scared of what might happen. This isn't the Cowboys of old, and by old I mean last season, but a new more balanced Cowboy attack. But still, after Thanksgiving I was wary. And I'm not one for excuses, extremely short week and immobile quarterback whatever.
So when I tuned in right before half and saw my Boys leading I was pleasantly surprised. And nervous enough to turn the TV right back off lest I jinx them. No, it makes no damn sense whatsoever, now shut up. And when I clicked the ESPN link...because I wasn't going to sit in the room with the TV and NOT watch, and saw that they were down, well, my heart sank.
I woke up this morning honestly, ready to read about how they couldn't quite pull it off. Oh, they'd get a drive in the closing minutes, start looking like world beaters, moving, grooving, flexing and all that, then just as the momentum was starting to peak, it would crumble. Think about the last three seasons before you wonder about my faith.
But now, we just have to win out. Against an Indy team (sorry Sporty) that doesn't have much to play for and Washington team that with luck will play for a draft pick. And then the monkey that is the playoffs. I just need one win, but I'd prefer a SuperBowl.
Barkeep. You know what time it is.
Sport is visceral. You can apply with and wisdom to it, study it and dissect it, review and parse it out in the pieces which you imagine can be improved, but then you will miss the entire point. We feel sport. It can, for a distinct instant, focus the minds of millions on a single thought. Turn the meek into raging beasts. It is sport. And it is good.
I have reached that point in the Cowboys season where my nerves get bad. Where I find myself yelling at the TV, wailing in agony at missed opportunities and sometimes turning the game off in frustration, only to turn it back on again a few minutes later and start the whole process over again. I can't eat, and definitely don't drink. It is something I am not proud of. It's why I prefer to watch the game alone, not even with other Cowboy fans.
And in the those situations where the Boys lose? I think by now even my mother has figured out to wait a few days before calling. And that the last few seasons have been marred by last game failures, I'm almost certain that my blood pressure could be fifteen to twenty points lower with a few more run calls.
So last night.
I'm supposed to have an earlier bedtime, so I'll use that as an excuse as to why I didn't watch the ending, but why I couldn't watch the start is another story. I toyed around with the idea of actually watching the beginning, mildly superstitious and just a little scared of what might happen. This isn't the Cowboys of old, and by old I mean last season, but a new more balanced Cowboy attack. But still, after Thanksgiving I was wary. And I'm not one for excuses, extremely short week and immobile quarterback whatever.
So when I tuned in right before half and saw my Boys leading I was pleasantly surprised. And nervous enough to turn the TV right back off lest I jinx them. No, it makes no damn sense whatsoever, now shut up. And when I clicked the ESPN link...because I wasn't going to sit in the room with the TV and NOT watch, and saw that they were down, well, my heart sank.
I woke up this morning honestly, ready to read about how they couldn't quite pull it off. Oh, they'd get a drive in the closing minutes, start looking like world beaters, moving, grooving, flexing and all that, then just as the momentum was starting to peak, it would crumble. Think about the last three seasons before you wonder about my faith.
But now, we just have to win out. Against an Indy team (sorry Sporty) that doesn't have much to play for and Washington team that with luck will play for a draft pick. And then the monkey that is the playoffs. I just need one win, but I'd prefer a SuperBowl.
Barkeep. You know what time it is.
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