How I Finally Became an NFL Fan
For decades I dodged the bullet of becoming a fan of an individual sports team. I watched my roommates in college hang their happiness on the performance of 22 guys they didn’t know and gathered immense pleasure when things went south for them. (I know, I’m a total jerk, still working on that) “How are you guys doing?” I’d ask after returning to SDSU after a weekend in Gann Valley. Dull stares in the other direction… “OK, so either your dog died or your team lost I guess.” I’d respond and go laughing about my way.
I wrongly thought that I understood why restaurants in a city whose team actually won conduct so much business that glorious week. I assumed it was because the average guy in the city really doesn’t have much else to get excited about. I mean, what does Joe Suburb really have to take his mind off of the daily grind if not for watching millionaires roll around on fake turf? But in the last few years, I’ve noticed that nearly all of my friends I dearly respect who farm and ranch are hardcore sports fans. Am I missing something? That’s where the dilemma first arose…. Do I automatically swear away sports fandom for life simply to remain independent and maintain my title of oddness? Or do I give it a chance just in case I’m missing out? That question haunted me for years.
Adding to the quandary of whether or not to test the waters of falling in love with a team is of course, which team will it be. The Broncos seem like the obvious choice because they’re the only team in the Mountain Time zone. Their drawback is their stadium is named “Invesco Field” after some corporate sponsor. Add to that there are way too many Californians and not enough farmers in Denver, and it takes them off the front burner. Any team on either coast is automatically out for obvious reasons.
The Vikings seem like a smart choice given their distance from SD, but then again I don’t like the State of MN. Nothing against Minnesotans, I’m just jealous because they get to take the summer off instead of harvest wheat and put up hay while their corn and beans grow.
I decided I needed to pick a team in a geographic area that knows what sacrifice is all about. That leaves out Pittsburg and Detroit because those cities are in bed with labor unions.
I honestly planned on delaying my team choice for at least several more years, but then something unexpected happened on the way to Lambeau field to watch the Packers/Vikings game last weekend. (The wife is a rabid NFL fan) Hillary and I drove down a small two-lane road somewhere in northern Wisconsin when we happened across a guy herding cattle. It’s not something I’m used to seeing a guy do on foot, so we stopped and talked to the gentleman. He told us all about his tiny farm, and how he moves his milk cows every day to the parlor. I asked him if he ever named any of them. “Yes.” was his simple answer “We name them.”
I wasn’t sure if I could believe this chap or not, so I pointed at one of the cows lumbering along and asked, “How ‘bout that one?”
“Nips.” Was his instant response.
“And that one?” I inquired pointing at another.
“Crooksie.” Came the immediate reply.
I eyed him and asked, “You mean to tell me you name each and every cow on the place?” The fella was a joy to talk to. While we stopped and chatted, the cows ambled on, knowing exactly where to go. It just seemed so unusual for a farmer in this day and age to nurture every inch of their property like that. In fact it flat-out blew me away. I immediately stopped assuming folks in the rest of the country have an easy life, and wondered if perhaps my world-view might be as narrow minded as my lovely wife always tells me.
I came away from the experience thinking about what an NFL team really stands for. It’s not just a bunch of super athletes dueling it out for the pursuit of that holiest of rings. It’s the little people who make it all possible. It’s the guy in the combine listening to the game on his XM satellite radio, the under appreciated housewife who’s only escape is that Sunday contest she looked forward to all week, and yes of course it’s the guy with the radio on in the milk barn, making his cows wonder why he is so excited for a change.
Here’s to hoping all of you sports fans can remain as happy on bad nights as you are on the good ones!
