Tuesday, August 10, 2010

All I know about football is that it's not soccer.

This week has been interesting.

On Friday, I went to my first football game. The only thing I know about football is that they paint black under their eyes and look like me when I walk out of the shower with mascara and eyeliner smeared across my cheekbones.

All day long, it rained. Our seats were not under cover. I was actually okay with this until a bird flew overhead.
The cheerleaders wore shiny, orange knee-high boots with thick kitten heels. It's like they were asking me to mock them.
In our wet seats (apparently you're supposed to wear black so it doesn't look like you peed your pants when you stand up, but no one told me this. I wore blue jeans. My solution was to not stand up.), we watched as five guys sat in front of us. Five stereotypical jock morons.

At least one of them was witty. He was mildly entertaining.

Every time something good happened, they would stand up, thus blocking our view of the good thing happening.

I didn't care so much, as I wouldn't recognize a spectacular moment of football history if it wasn't part of a montage on YouTube, but still. Not cool, stereotypical jock morons. Not cool.

I'd like to describe the game, honestly I would, but it really wasn't the star of the show. Most of the time, people were more excited to get a wave going than watch the same thing over and over again, ten yards a part. I guess I expected a whistle of some sort, like in soccer. On stage, it would be an introduction. I think there's a whistle in hockey too. Something to say, we're starting, shut up and watch.

There wasn't a whistle. Maybe we just couldn't hear it but a blowhorn would have been greatly appreciated. I didn't even notice when the game officially began because one of the cheerleaders had missed the stand-with-your-feet-together memo and her obliviousness was amusing me.

At half time, two Elvis impersonators performed and I was totally distracted by the potential scenario of one of them meeting Elvis' daughter. How awkward would that be? "Nice to meet you, I'm faking your father."

I have no idea how the second half of the game went 'cause I was chowing down on Skittles. They gave me a headache 'cause I hadn't eaten much beforehand, but it was worth it.

The rain stopped for a while and then it began misting as our team began losing in that not-gonna-make-a-comeback kinda way. When there was only five minutes left, crowds of people left. Just hunkered their way down the bleachers and gone. The game was not over.

During Princess and the Pea, an old couple figured they'd beat the line-ups by leaving right at the end of the Christmas song. Unfortunately, at the very end of the Christmas song, we all danced offstage, down the aisle and out the door the same way they were going, so we got stuck behind them. The cast. Dancing and singing the same song over and over and over again because this couple had thought they'd make a quick getaway. Rude. And boy did they look stupid.

Those last five minutes of the game lasted a good fifteen. Twelve second plays. Nine seconds, stop the clock.

I kept myself entertained by people-watching. One guy went as far down the bleachers as he could go and mooned the spectators before a security guard reached him. One guy lifted his infant child up to do the wave like in Lion King. One woman wore a bedazzled headband that I must have.

Our team lost. I pretended to care. But hey, at least I know now our team colours. That's something, right?