Why do you hate me, football?

I love football. I love football season. I remain dedicated to my Bucs even when they have years like last year, and I even watch them online when the game is blacked out because everyone else jumped off the bandwagon and won’t go to games. I love going to games, but it’s an expensive day. Beer is EIGHT DOLLARS! 3 hours of $8 beers gets expensive, and on top of that they cut the beer off for the 4th quarter, which is just about the time everyone has drunk enough that they want to continue drinking heavily. But despite this, and despite the fact that I hate people, particularly loud sweaty people in crowds, I still love going to games. I just can’t do it 8 games a season. My couch is so comfortable. Beer is so cheap here. I can annoy the cats while I watch football, although they’re usually passed out asleep somewhere on Sundays, so asleep that they don’t even bat an eye when the boyfriend or I yells obscenities at the TV.


Which brings me to the issue at hand. There’s a lot of yelling in my house these days. You see, I play fantasy football. And my teams are taking a giant Taco-sized poop. I seem to be bad luck for running backs, I have two injured ones right now, and I have the backup for one of those injured ones in my other league, and he just got hurt today too.

Moosh doesn’t care.

So I’m sitting here watching the Sunday night game hoping Tom Brady’s arm magically falls off, because that’s pretty much the only way I’m going to win. Oh, and in addition to that, it would help if they decided that since Brady’s arm fell off, they should just kick field goals for the rest of the game. I have the New England kicker. That would be nice.


I’m not even going to mention the Bucs’ performance today, because it seems to me that they didn’t actually PLAY in the game, they just went to hang out with the Cowboys.

One comment

  1. Russel Ray Photos

    I quit going to sports games a few decades ago, about the time that instant replay hit the big time. Coincidentally, I think that also was when sports players started being grossly overpaid yet whining about how little money they make for working half a year.

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