Football and Hits

/ roughwighting

I’m a middle-aged woman who can’t watch violent movies and who shies away from angry words or, really, any kind of confrontation.

But, I absolutely LOVE football. Go figure!

My love affair began in 1985, living in San Francisco, watching Joe Montana and the 49ers.

Of course, I’d watched football before then – didn’t ‘get’ it. What was the fuss all about?  I dated a quarterback in high school. He was cute, and my popularity increased because I was seen with the BMOC, but the football games were for hot dogs, dancing to the band, and dishing about the cheerleaders, not watching the game.

In college I went out with a guy who tried to inspire passion through round pretzels. No, really. He wanted me to understand the game of football, so he pulled out a bag of those small round pretzels (do they make those kind anymore?) and made the dorm lobby’s glass-topped table a football field.

“Here’s the quarterback,” he’d try. “Now this guy on defense will try and get away from the offensive line..” (the pretzels would be moved in position) “and hit the quarterback so he can’t throw the ball.”

The guy lost me at “hit.” Any game that involved hitting just wasn’t my cup of tea, or in those days, my mug of beer.

But Montana happened, and then Steve Young, and ‘The Catch,’ and 49er fever throughout the Bay Area. I had an ‘aha’ moment, and I began to love football, and its strategy, and understand the necessity of hits.

Segue to this past weekend, with two exciting football playoff games, a New England friend visiting me, a TV in a sun-filled Bay Area condo, and pure silliness.

MA and I began to root for different teams in the beginning of the afternoon, but by the end of the day, I’d pulled her onto my side. We danced with a field goal, pranced with a touchdown, sang bird tunes with a first down, and groaned like sick seals after a sack.

The man of the house, not a football fan like his darling wife (after all, he never had a pretzel lesson, nor did he understand the appeal of the amazing male physiques, ur, athletes) hid in the other room with the newspaper and a good book. But I did see him hide a smile once or twice.

The moral of my post is this: hits can be good, if used properly in Football.

Or Blogs.

Roughwighting has been “hit” over 2,100 times! (That means a reader goes directly into my blog and reads my post. WordPress then documents a “hit.”)

I thank all of you who read my wighting words in my blog and enjoy them, who comment when moved, who are touched in some small way from my shared revelations.

Hit me again.

And Go Patriots!

My grandson and his dad prepare for the Superbowl.

 

 

 

10 thoughts on “Football and Hits”

  1. So you “sang bird tunes with a first down”? No wonder Jerry stayed away…:)

    (from ROUGHWIGHTING): Yeah, his head was definitely hidden under the newspaper during first downs… :+) I know you’ll be cheering on the Patriots mightily in two Sundays… maybe even giving off a bird tune or two??

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    • I’m not one to watch football. But since my husband watches the “Big” games I decided to join him. After all, he takes me to all sorts of craft shows. I really seem to enjoy watching with him this past weekend. It was a “football bonding moment”.

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      • Sweet! Now teach him some dance moves after a particularly exciting play. (But then, maybe he’ll never want you to watch football with him again!) Mostly, I’m impressed that he’ll take you to crafts shows. That is true love. xo

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  2. Living in the state of Alabama (Football Heaven… or Hell), the obsession with football was completely lost on me, too. But having lived here for 20 years now, I get it! I am now screaming at the quarterback (causing pets to scatter) and using language only heard on Navy ships. It’s addicting and downright entertaining. I think going to a college where football was somewhat of a joke (sorry Lycos) and being from NJ, the appreciation of the game was certainly latent. When I first moved to Alabama, I asked our tour guide who Bear Bryant was – big mistake. Car breaked hardly and our next stop was the Paul W. Bryant Museum. Oh my…. I guess this guy is famous… Roll Tide.

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    • We are soul sisters! Yes, New Jersey football (or the lack thereof) didn’t produce football fans from those of us who lived there back then, did it? But like me, you have come onto the ‘hit em back, hit em back, waaaaay back’ side. I think I’d love to watch a football game with you!

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  3. Loved reading your football story and the excitement you have for the game! You should market those pretzels to those needing to learn what it’s all about…in other words, me! It was exciting, until the letdown. Oh well, next year. I’m not a football fan but that Niner/Saints game got me into it (jumped around like a kid!). I’m a firm believer that with football, all you have to do is watch the last five minutes of the game, sometimes only the last two! Can’t wait for baseball! No sacking, no violence and the uniforms are cuter! Just waiting for the Cubbies to do it in my lifetime! Rooting for the SF Giants too!

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    • You like to watch football games the way some people like to read an exciting book – just get to the end and avoid all the ‘hold your breath’ stress and ‘leading up to the climax details’ in the middle. In baseball, on the other hand, one can catch a nap in the middle and not miss a thing! :+) Seriously, let’s look for those pretzels!!

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  4. Go Joe! I think Joe was responsible for many of us learning to love the game in the 80s. Remember when he wore the pantyhose? What a guy. Pretzels would have helped me early on, I think 49ers will hit next year, and who does’t love a climax!

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    • that was Joe NAMATH who wore the pantyhose :+) – a different football Joe, but maybe the Joe who first made us look a little closer at football. Then Joe Montana sealed the deal.
      Yes, the 49ers are back and now getting our attention again. Yay!

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