mercredi 6 septembre 2006

Please do not talk to me about college football.


I had a craving for carnitas. So I made them for a dinner party last week. And yes, I made the guacamole and salsa as well. But not the tortillas. There's just so much I can be bothered to do.

I went to an all-girl's school for 9 years. Needless to say, we did not have a football team.

I then went to an undergrad university known not at all for its sports, but rather for having one of the few Egyptology departments in the US (I suppose it's known for other things as well). I went to homecoming once to see what the big fuss was about. The stadium is a 20-minute walk from the campus. The stands were maybe half-full. I left before halftime. And I never went back. The only reason I went to my friends' Super Bowl parties was for the food. I was promised as much pulled pork as I could eat. So I'd go, and do something obnoxious like bring along Plato in French (or Platon, as he's known in that language) to read during the game. Just because there was football didn't mean that I couldn't also use the time to do my homework.

I then went to another school known for about a gazillion things under the sun, but football was not one of them. I heard there was a homecoming game. I debated sitting in a parking lot drinking beer in the bitter cold (it was cold that day), or staying at home and sleeping. I opted for the latter. Plus, the stadium was across the river. Like hell I was going to drive that far (and keep in mind, I had a river-view apartment).

Now, I suppose I'm at a school (jeesum, enough with the education already! Go out into the real world and get a job!) where there is a Real Athletic Department, and football is a Big Deal. And I suppose that were I to plead allegiance to any football team, it'd be this one.

But after nearly 26 years (this Saturday! Send presents!) of not really giving a shit about football because I had no football team to support, I can't find the werewithal to care. My cousins who are UCLA alums are appalled by my lack of interest in watching big bulky big-necked boys run up and down the field colliding into each other. They want to know why I don't have season tickets. They want me to get them season tickets. (Also, why is the home stadium around 30 miles away in Pasadena?) When people find out I'm at UCLA they immediately start talking football, not deterred by the blank look in my eyes. That guy I hooked up with a couple of weeks ago tried to talk to me about his fantasy football draft (and tried to convince me to go to the bar with him for the draft - what is he, daft?) and said that the first three picks were easy and no-brainers, but whom should he go with after that? He spouted names and it was like he was speaking Greek to me.

Because he kept pressing for my opinion, I told him that were I him, I'd just go with the cutest guys. Because if your team has a chance of losing, it might as well be cute doing so.

Surprisingly, he didn't understand my reasoning.