Where's my football?

[TheIronColonel]

It's a cool, brisk Saturday morning here in Columbus (it got into the 50's last night!). As usual I woke up at 5:00 AM, because I am a man of particular habits. My body told me that it was a fall Saturday - it could feel the change in the weather slowly rolling in as I took the dogs for their morning walk. I came home to a kitchen smelling of coffee, and took the time to do the dishes.

On Saturdays in the fall, football is my religion. I mean this in a very literal sense; a man needs rituals. Some people find comfort in the trappings of a church, synagogue, or mosque. I find it in college football. It is a transcendent religious experience; it lasts only a few short weeks, but it reliably returns the same time every year. It gives a sense of belonging. Regardless of our alma mater or favorite team, we're all in this for the same reason. We all watch to see the spectacle, to experience the same highs and lows. Our differences are small and sectarian, but our similarities are strong and deeply ingrained. We all embrace the autumn because it marks the return of a joyous tradition worthy of celebration.

I spend the entire offseason looking forward to the fall, but not just because I need a fix of football. If that were the case, I would just record games and watch those. No, I need the fall. I need the weather to turn cold, so that I can cook all day for my guests. I need the leaves to change, so I can smell the must and see the color.

The fall means family. Growing up, my father worked too much. We didn't really get to interact as much as I would have liked. Now that he's retired, the fall is our time together. We can watch football all day, regardless of who is playing. It simply doesn't matter. It's our time together, and it's even better if the Bucks are on TV (or his alma mater, Wisconsin...or both!). Our dogs love this time, too, because they can sunbathe on the living room floor. Some might call such passive engagement slothful and lazy, that it is ill-conceived bonding. They miss the meaning, though: it's not about winning or losing or high definition TVs. It's about finding an excuse to do the things together that everyday life conspires to prevent. How many of us can find the time to talk and enjoy the company of friends and family for 6-8 hours each week?

College football marks the return of food, too. The summer brings a wonderful bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables, but the fall harvest and slaughter bring a new pallet of flavors: tomatoes, potatoes, and squash for hardy stews. It brings a smile to my face just thinking about it. Getting up at 5 to start smoking a brisket or dicing a roast for chili extends the joy of college football into the wee hours of the morning. New brews arrive, too: traditionally, in the autumn the heavy weight lagers begin to roll out from their summer caves. It's still that way in my home.

More than anything, college football is about tradition and ritual. It IS the autumn. In modern society, many rituals and holidays have lost their meaning. This is the way of things: they change over time. Christmas now is not Christmas from 100 years ago. College football, however, is our tradition now. It gives added significance to the season and added reasons to be with our families and friends. It may not always be this way, but it is now. And my body says its autumn, and my calendar says its Saturday.

So, where is my college football?

 

[Mike80]

It needs to get here that's for sure

 

[bigbluebazooka]

Life will presume in another week. Just the thought of 9/11. Cant fucking wait. Im ready to tear shit up.:cheers:

 

[cincibuck]

Ah, football as an analogy to religion -- I grew up in a small, non-denominational-with-Unitarian-leanings church. The rituals were minimal and the emphasis was on Christ's teachings. It was not unusual to hear something from other faiths mentioned in the sermon.

My wife grew up in THE Church and spent 11 years as a vowed religious. To her ritual was a significant part of how one got in touch with their spiritual side. Her football identity was with Elder High School and Notre Dame. Ohio State might as well have been in Manchuria for all that she understood about it.

I tried to be a good Catholic, but it just wasn't in me. "Why all the damn ritual, why not just get to the point of the matter?" I asked her repeatedly.

So what's all this got to do with football?

I'd been living in California for two years, one before and one after meeting Kathy. I'd been too broke for another three years to go to Buckeye game. Then I lucked onto a pair of Homecoming tickets and planned out our weekend: take off as soon as school let out, meet up with college friends of mine still living in Columbus, walk around all the Homecoming displays, pizza at the Venetian and then a beer in the North 'berg and another 2-3-4-5-6 at Larry's, get up at the crack of dawn, walking tour of the campus and pointing out all the places I'd lived and explaining all the important connections to each site, over to St. John's for skull session, up to our seats -- three rows from the top of C deck -- taking her to the top row to look back at the campus and tell her the stories about catching pigeons in C and turning them loose in B, hoping they'd either poop on or scare the shit out of the alums who sat there, and then getting primed for the ramp entry, pointing out how the drummers would come out first, set the spacings and begin that great cadence, then how each member would hit a mark with their left or right -- depending on which side-- foot and do a sharp turn, how they would go from marching at 120 beats per minute, to 60 with a high knee lift, and then back to 120, how the drum major would do a back bend and if he was really good his shako would touch the grass, how he'd throw the baton over the goal post and catch it on the other side.

They played the Star Spangled Banner and then made the diamond Ohio formation, the sound of the campus chimes boomed out and Carmen Ohio followed. I started to sing and then I lost it. I thought of how much Ohio State meant to me -- yeah I loved the football -- but it was also the place where I tested and formed my own identity, my own moral code, my own spiritual life. Tears rolled down my cheeks and then Kath leaned over and said, "I thought you didn't like ritual."

Can't wait for Thursday.

 

[Taosman]

Football is religion, dammit!

It represents all that's good and bad in the world!