Often, I do not blindly enjoy things while they are still happening, because I know that everything will end eventually. I've gotten better at recognizing the ephemeralness of, well, everything. Sometimes, though, an imminent deadline will knock me on my ass. I was shaken back into coherence this past weekend when I remembered that the NFL regular season is over, and now the playoffs are under way.
The playoffs themselves are great. What else could they be? Each year eclipses the year before, and really the previous 16 games. Nobody remembers that the New England Patriots went undefeated in the 2007 regular season. Well, obviously not nobody, but that achievement was diminished because of the team's loss to the New York Giants in the Super Bowl. The Giants' win was that much more astounding because they beat an unbeatable (until then) team, and I remembered it recently thinking about the exemplary play of then-heralded but now reviled Plaxico Burress. He's a moron, no doubt, and I wish that everyone who owns a gun would be so lucky as to shoot himself in the leg. He did, though, catch the pass that beat the Patriots, so I irrationally overlook the obviously deplorable circumstances of his future idiocy. The same goes for my willingness to turn my head at the despicable Roman Polanski. I mean, the guy made Chinatown. And his fiance was killed by the minions of Charles Manson. I know that nothing excuses his terrible treatment of that 13-year-old girl, but he also survived the Holocaust, so I sometimes let this tidbit obscure his "alleged" brutality. (After such a rash act like his evasive flight from the country, possibilities harden into facts, in my mind.)
Earlier I listened to Patton Oswalt talk about the prowess of Gale Sayers. (Really.) He said that even if you could never do anything that compared to his running, you can still appreciate the grace and indomitability of his technique moving with a football. It is one of the most immediate gratification available these days, on YouTube and the like. I understand that about Sayers, and also feel that way when I see Adrian Peterson rush. Sometimes. He didn't exactly set the world on fire this year, but Brett Favre did. When he turned 40 last year, subtle insults from commentators came pouring in. "Does he still have it?" He's 40, you asshole, not 400.
Here's the thing, though: the playoffs remind me that an imminent hiatus is immanent. From February to August I'll have to rely on the NFL Network to satiate my thirst for the NFL (college football, as I've said, bores me). There's baseball, I know, but watching the MLB is like getting a fistful of methadone when you're a heroin addict. It's absurdly insufficient. So I've been told.
I get to watch teams that have tried to be elusive. I still don't give a shit about the Bengals, but I respect the Saints, even if they have lost some of their luster in recent weeks after losing their perfect season. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise (see: the 2007 Patriots again.) They get to play Kurt Warner & the Cardinals next, and I hope that Drew Brees makes the older QB look even older.
What's funny, too, is that I actually watch the NFL so I know what the hell the commentators are talking about. Except Troy Aikman, who's replaced Bill Walton at the head of the line of sports analysts that should never be allowed near a microphone. My favorite quote of Walton's was his trenchant observation that "The Lakers need to put the ball in the basket" during the 1991 Finals against the Bulls. Joe Buck is no Marv Albert, though, and every time he opens his mouth I get Vietnam flashbacks of irrational rage. All you need to know about Joe Buck is that he's probably looking forward to the upcoming baseball season. So am I, sort of, but for a very different reason: I don't have to endure inane commentary, although I do have to put up with 162 games that cannot convince me of the beauty of a perfectly-placed bunt. Yawn. What Al Michaels or Cris Collinsworth says, though, I pay attention to.
Joe Buck deals with such luminaries as Troy Aikman, though, so comments like "The [insert team name] need to win this game" go unchecked. Also, in case you're wondering, the team with the most points wins.
Aikman gets a pass because he admirably served his time in the league. Buck represents the worst of nepotism. His dad was Jack Buck, the famous voice of the St. Louis Cardinals.
Again, that's baseball. Ugh. & I'll be really crestfallen if a threatened lockout happens, & squashes the 2010 NFL season. I may even start watching European football aka soccer.
Just kidding--that would never happen.
R
