I was in my twenties the first time I saw a football game. And it was on television. In the USA. I had just arrived from Europe where soccer is king and had no idea why all those men running around looked like gorillas wearing uniforms. On close ups they appeared to have no neck and huge, I mean HUGE shoulders. I didn’t dare to keep interrupting with my silly questions especially since at the time my English was marginal.
I had no idea what was going on, had trouble figuring out where that strange looking ball was. Maybe it was a game of hide and seek? One team hid the ball and the other team had to find it? One redeeming factor was watching some of the players running with the grace and speed of gazelles. And…great tushies…
But the run was often interrupted by a not so graceful runner and soon many players would be on the ground, in a heap. And the people sitting around watching the screen would scream and cuss and get very animated. Other times they would be happy in a loud way, and would have another beer.
There was no goalie, although once a player that didn’t look as big as the rest did kick the ball.
I kept quiet until one of the team got into a tight circle—later on I would learn that’s called a huddle—and one of the men, the one with the best tush, had a rag hanging from the waist. What? A rag? Before I could get my mind to process that sight, another player rubbed his hand on the rag and seemed to pat the shapely tush. Really? On public television?
I was so disgusted I went to my room to read a book.
Eventually I did learn how the game was played and why the quarterback or other players wear a towel at the waist. I also found out the game I watched was one of O.J Simpson’s last. He was the running gazelle.
And I do like to watch football and all that it entails. :-D