Day 264: The End For Me, The Beginning For You
This is the final day of my Year Without Football. I set out to last the entire 2010-2011 NFL cycle with no pro, college, or high school American football, and in doing so transformed my basic understanding of the costs of following sports at this stage in modern history. I started with the Hall-of-Fame Game in July and conclude with tonight’s NFL Draft.
In short summary, I didn’t miss the hype. At all. Excising all the unnecessary analysis and hype was extremely liberating. I was rejuvenated by the chance to follow a new sport in Australian Rules Football and experimented with team handball, while simultaneously surprising myself by subconsciously losing track of international soccer. I encountered some wonderful people who were genuinely supportive and intrigued with the endeavor, and was surprised to receive moderate media coverage, which was both satisfying and validating. After all was said and done, over 10,000 people stopped by here to see what the big deal was. That will buy quite a bit of dog food for the SPCA.
Around the time I kicked off Year Without Football, life came knocking as my wife and I became expecting parents on Day 2. On March 26, we welcomed Hollie to the world a few weeks early. The record will show that her first official televised sporting event was the incredible upset by Virginia Commonwealth, knocking off Kansas to advance to the Final Four. Hollie has watched her first Red Sox/Angels games (all Boston victories) as well as playoff hockey (Stanley Cup AND NCAA Frozen Four) plus games featuring the St. Kilda Saints (Aussie Rules).
Hollie’s arrival, I imagined, would considerably alter my viewing frequency. Wonderfully, I find that I now have a new partner to watch the games with. In the coming years, these moments may become cherished bonding memories: notches on the timeline of her childhood.
—
The big question of course, as the NFL appears headed to complete shutdown this season, is this: How did you do it?! As I explained my project to a class of 8th graders today, half the students projected an audible gasp when I told them of my project. They, as many still do, wonder “Is it possible?”
There’s no set path to follow; just know that it is most certainly possible. You WILL survive. Life will move on. You’ll get your weekends back during some of the colder parts of the year. Remember a few things:
1) There ARE other sports. You may toss around a joke or two about the ratings for other athletic events, but they’re still there for you. Give yourself a chance to watch a full post-season baseball game or an opening day/Winter Classic NHL game. If possible, attend a game live to reconnect with the experience. If you decide to follow another sport online, such as European Soccer or Aussie Rules Football, the best way to go about is to pick a team and follow JUST THAT TEAM. Keep it simple and familiarize yourself with their style in order to get used to the finer points of the game.
2) Plan a major project during those refunded hours. Even though the college game will continue unobstructed this season, you will find yourself with a full week-and-a-half of free time if the NFL season does not take place. Ask yourself “What have I always wanted to do that I can accomplish with an extra six-to-eight hours free a week?” The possibilities are ENDLESS.
3) Get conservative with your money. Reassess exactly how much you’re spending to watch the games you can’t see. Go with a plan to to cut back and you could actually SAVE some cash by eliminating Sports Packs or by forgoing an NFL Sunday Ticket subscription.
4) Go straight to the source. If you’re committed to following a team or league, start your browsing/daily info dump there. Go straight to the league or team’s website to catch up. You’ll be amazed how much lower your blood pressure will be once you eliminate talking heads with diversionary agendas. I can honestly say that even though I removed the voluntary parental control block for the Frozen Four, I haven’t stopped to watch a non-game telecast on the ESPN Cartel for a single minute. The urge simply isn’t there.
—
My modified intention headed into Super Bowl Sunday was to avoid learning the score and winner for as long as possible. That dream died the following night. While watching WWE Monday Night Raw, I witnessed Vince McMahon kick off the program by congratulating the crowd on their victory last night. As I noticed the telecast originated from Milwaukee, I knew my quest was finished. (To my credit, I lasted until this past week before learning the winner of the BCS Title Game.) I still don’t know the Packers’ margin of victory or the final score, but that will come tomorrow.
To ceremonially close the Year Without Football, I’m going to sit down and finally watch this year’s Super Bowl. Nearly 3 months later. Because I haven’t watched a game all year, I’m curious to see how out-of-touch I’ve truly been. It may be a return to reality, but I may permanently be on the outside looking in regarding my relationship with American football.
DR
Day 184: The Crescendo
Initially, I theorized that I might go to Disneyland. Later, I contemplated a shorter day trip with my pregnant wife to the Tehachapi mountains. Eventually, I determined that the best way to steer clear of Super Bowl XLV was to treat it like any other day.
In order to properly tune out the general population’s enthusiasm over the greatest manufactured spectacle in the Americas, I had to approach it with the mindset that it was no different than any other day off. We woke up at about 10am (Pacific time) and once we were prepared for the day, we set about tending to various household and automotive duties. There was a rest period of about an hour around the time of kick-off.
I don’t think I’ve devoted nearly enough column space to Melissa’s support of Year Without Football. She could have easily dismissed my efforts as yet another fruitless pet project, but I’ve been extremely fourtunate to have a partner so supportive of a lengthy, formative project such as this. Especially, of all years, this one. Melissa’s father, as you may recall, is easily one of the top 5 Green Bay Packers fans in the Kern County area. She doesn’t remember too much about her father’s reaction the last time the Packers won the Super Bowl, a victory over the Patriots in 1997 at Super Bowl Desmond Howard (the game number ended up less consequential than Howard’s single-game performance). She had anticipated seeing how her father would react in either the affirmative or the negative. However, the labors of the pregnant life, combined with the culmination of over six months of my evasion of gridiron hype, led to the decision to make this Super Bowl Sunday a pre-family day.
In order to shield me from the results, she has filtered my access to Facebook to the point where she will be sure to close all programs before allowing me access to the computer. To a greater extent, when phoning her mother to inquire about dad’s response to the result, she told me to crank the volume in the living room up while she shut the door to the den to take the call.
The only websites I’ve visited today are my Hattrick account (a 5-0 loss to my league’s leader), a Northeastern University message board in preparation for tomorrow’s Beanpot Tournament madness vs. Harvard, and my GMail account where I received a response from Kyle Whelliston of MidMajority.com:
Thanks for forwarding me to your great site. I’ve always seen this as a solitary exercise and a game one plays against himself, the most intimidating opponent of all. It looks like you have plenty of practice this season though, so I couldn’t possibly compete on an equal level. I’ll definitely put up links to you. Some of TMM’s readers are going to take part this year as well, and the Twitter hashtag is #LastMan. Best of luck, and see you on the other side.
(…so…I win by forfeit!? Thanks for the Twitter plug! #LastMan)
As I type this, it’s approximately 1:22am EST and I am still unaware of the winner and score of Super Bowl XLV. They’ve fired off the confetti, transferred the Vince Lombardi Trophy, measured the number of nationwide flushes enacted during the halftime show, and conducted the mandatory post-game awkward interview with the losing head coach, and I’m blissfully ignorant as to the recipient of national accolades.
Go without knowing who won the Super Bowl? That’s easy for the other 6 billion people in the world who really don’t give a crap. For the other 1/7th of the world’s population, I’ll try to hold off as long as I can.
On to Beanpot Monday!
DR
Day 182: The Super Bowl Eve Experiment
The hype machine has reached its crescendo throughout all forms of media. My attempts to limit information intake to human interaction have not stopped football feedback, simply limited its impact.
With a day to go, I wanted to document exactly how many interactions and observations occur in unlikely situations: a birthing class and an NBA D-League game.
8:50am – It didn’t take long for the unlikely encounters to begin, as NPR’s Scott Simon and Howard Bryant devoted an entire segment to game hype. I clicked off, returned five minutes, and the topic had not changed.
I’ll continue to update throughout the day to illustrate just how difficult it will be to carry on in blissful ignorance of Super Bowl XLV. (Hit F5 to refresh the page)
10:02am – The couple in front of Melissa and I are both in the spirit. Both sporting Reebok t-shirts, the wife’s got “Property of Ravens Football” and the husband is apparently “Tailgating Crew Champion.”
11:15am – A mother and expectant daughter begin planning their day for tomorrow. “Mom, do we have to go to church early before the game?”
“I hope so, I don’t want to miss the Obama/O’Reilly interview!” I get the sense that most people who get excited about these interviews truly expect anything groundbreaking have already formed their opinions before the interview even airs without realizing that these are carefully choreographed and negotiated. Then again, more people will see this than the State of the Union.
1:15pm – Before leaving birthing class, we make our way to the admission desk to pre-register. As we enter the automatic doors on the right, a couple exits on the left. The gentleman leads the way, sporting a crisp, fresh, and geographically out-of-place Buffalo Bills cap. There’s got to be a story behind it…
4:19pm: A message board pointed me in the direction of Kyle Whelliston of TheMidMajority.com, focusing on mid-major college basketball. He has apparently undertaken a tradition of attempting to be the last man in America to learn the result of the game. I have submitted to him a direct challenge on behalf of Year Without Football. It’s on, Whelliston.
5:50pm – Just as I arrived to the Jam Events Center for Bakersfield/Springfield D-League contest, I received a text from Melissa. She wanted to make a grocery run while I was working press row. “Can I do this tomorrow? This place is overrun with last-minute Super Bowl party hosts and I’m too pregnant to put up with them.” Thanks for hopping on that grenade, sweetheart!
8:02pm – Halftime at Jam City. The team runs a halftime promotion in the form of a drawing contest. The theme: “Who will win the game tomorrow?” The contestants were 10-year-olds with limited artistic abilities. The Packers logo looked like Pac-Man with head trauma.
DR
Day 178: The Universe Consipres Against Me
Five days…I had five days to go. In retrospect, it’s incredible I lasted that long.
I’m now aware of the participants of this year’s Super Bowl, and when it became clear, I didn’t recoil. I was calmed by both a sense of relief and redemption…redemption that all the signals that the universe had sent me today were valid.
—
At approximately 7:55am, I was en route to my assignment at a junior high when I was cut off by a pickup truck, not by itself an uncommon occurrence in this town. What grabbed my attention (other than the strangely courteous and locally infrequent use of a turn signal) was the horrific and scattershot plastering of black and gold throughout the truck’s body.
A similar vehicle sent a message on behalf of the universe.
Steeler Decal Overdose is a common malady in the Central Valley due the unusually high number of original Joey Porter hanger-ons from his salad days of championship glory. I thought nothing of it, but the memory lingered within reach.
Upon arriving at the school, I made my way to the teacher’s lounge to drop my lunch into the staff fridge and stumbled into an impromptu birthday celebration for the vice principal. Cake for everybody!
…this is approaching “weird” territory.
I arrive at the classroom and go over the plans for the day. The subject of this class is “Tech/Life Skills’ and once preparations commenced my fear of administering the dreaded “Birds and Bees” discussions was quickly dissipated. My task was to administer viewing of a VHS from the mid 90′s titled “Sew Cool: An Introduction to Sewing.” The video, primed as a potential MST3K short, demonstrated various methods, uses and projects intended to instill a sense of usefulness to skeptical home ec students. Students could repair torn clothing, construct pin cushions, make privacy door hangers…OHFERCHRISSAKES…
Source: "Sew Cool Productions", 1995
Almost immediately, the principal chimed in over the PA to remind the population that Friday was Jersey Day: wear your favorite team gear for the big game on Sunday!
The room started spinning…all of my efforts began crashing down around me…I began hearing voices…Vince Facenda…Myron Cope…Terry Bradshaw…Boomer Esiason…a 14-year-old kid…”Mr. Rossiter?”
I snapped back into clarity…someone was asking a question. “Yes, you in the back?”
“Are you voting for the Steelers or the Packers in the Super Bowl?”
—
My attempt to avoid knowing the participants in the Super Bowl ended five days short of the game. In a way, I’m relieved. I no longer need to continue my self-imposed social media exodus and can ease up on my sports reception blackout.
It also means I can focus on a new goal: go as long as possible without knowing the winner or score of Super Bowl XLV. I feel like I’ll have a headstart on this task; the day after the game is Lincoln’s Birthday, so no school, no water cooler smalltalk, more of a chance to isolate myself from undesired information. I don’t know if I can reach the end of Year Without Football without discovering the victor, but if I can make it to the Beanpot Championship Game on Valentine’s Day, I’ll be satisfied with my efforts.
In the meantime, I can relax, safe in the knowledge that the most difficult part will soon be in the past.
DR
Day 176: A Halfway Point Distraction – The Royal Rumble
I’ve survived the first week of Super Bowl hype without being aware of the participants, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t come close…
I’ve been off Facebook for a week now. I’ve avoided ESPN all year and the only sports I’ve had the time to take in was the NHL Skills Competition. I’ve had to keep my eyes pointed to the ground while walking through the supermarket so as to avoid seeing Super Bowl decorations and mylar balloons featuring the participating cities. I’ve been keeping myself busy with work, reading (a long-overdue second excursion through the “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” series) and a steady stream of Netflix viewings and Gamefly rentals and baby classes for Hollie.. I’m starting to build myself up for the first round of the Beanpot versus Harvard on February 7th, but that’s still about 8 days away.
The immediate future holds yet another annual source of entertainment: the Royal Rumble.
It’s been made overtly clear over the duration of this experiment that I’m a wrestling geek. I started following at a young age, waking up to “WWF Wrestling Challenge” on Saturday mornings through the local Fox affiliate leading up to my Pay-Per-View, the 1991 Royal Rumble. I had already begun following sports, and I still hadn’t made the connection of predetermination in pro wrestling; it still looked legitimate to 9-year-old me. The WWF Championship match piqued my curiosity further. I was fascinated by the fact that with all the advances in video technology and instant replay, Macho Man Randy Savage could hit the Ultimate Warrior in the head with a scepter and allow Sergeant Slaughter to win the title without review.
But the true captivation was the Main Event itself: the Royal Rumble Match.
Here’s the premise: 30 wrestlers are entered into the match and are assigned a random entry number. The entrants who “draw” #s 1 and 2 enter the ring and begin the match. A new entrant joins the fray every 90 seconds. Elimination only occurs when A) a wrestler is thrown over the top rope and B) both feet touch the floor. After all entrants have entered the ring, the last person standing is declared the winner.
Aside from the notoriety gained from winning the match, the victor earns an automatic spot in the main event championship match at that year’s WrestleMania, the marquee event on the calendar. Therefore, the match itself is usually seen as a launching pad for the upper echelon of performers. It marks the start of the long stretch of storylines leading up to the industry’s big “season finale”, the culmination of an entire year’s work. The stage is great, recently expanding to large football and baseball stadiums.
The great irony is that the results, of course, are all predetermined. I’ve known this for decades and yet I’ve remained intrigued by the spectacle. Pro wrestling often plays out significant social conflicts, much in the same sense that traditional Greek theater did several thousand years ago. The characters are crafted, then allowed to grow organically, such that the aware viewer still has an opportunity to develop affinity or disdain for certain performers. As a mature, aware, wrestling fan, you still get surprised and excited by the twists and turns and you still want to see certain performers “excel.”
The Royal Rumble offers this in spades. Over the course of 20 years, developments in the Rumble have challenged the rules (Shawn Michaels winning because only ONE foot touched the floor, Bret Hart and Lex Luger touching the floor at the exact same time, Steve Austin and Vince McMahon leaving the ring through the middle ropes only to return at the end). The size of the field has offered a number of returns, both younger wrestlers returning from lengthy injuries and older favorites who spark nostalgia. The duration and size of the event lends itself to statistical distinctions from most eliminations in a match (Kane with 11 in 2001) to single match durations (Longest: 1 hour, 2 minutes, 10 seconds by Rey Mysterio in 2006. Shortest: 1 second by Santino Marella in 2009).
Because of the match’s status as a springboard, there’s a surprising amount of parity. Over the past 12 years, there have been 12 victors.
I’ve always found it to be a great value. Much of the time, sporting events just don’t live up to the hype. Part of the appeal of pro wrestling, even in my older years, is that you’re almost guaranteed a payoff for your emotional investment. As long as you go in with the mindset of any other scripted form of entertainment, you can appreciate it for what it is; an athletic exhibition supplemented with narrative.
And it’s in Boston this year; significant not only to myself (I attended a show in 2000 featuring Stone Cold Steve Austin in a steel cage match, Triple H versus Kurt Angle, and The Rock vs. Chris Jericho. The card holds up incredibly well a decade later), but because of the building’s wrestling legacy. The New Garden hosted Wrestlemania 14, where Austin defeated Shawn Michaels with Mike Tyson as the guest referee. It was Austin’s first title and the start of the post-Hogan renaissance. The seeds for that match were sewn earlier in the year at the Rumble match, won by Austin.
After the Rumble, the winner goes to WrestleMania. I go to Super Bowl Sunday, the final week of avoiding hype; the climax of the Year Without Football. The past week was the preview; the most intense onslaught is on its way.
DR
Day 169: The Worst Case Scenario
Perhaps it’s because I haven’t been as connected with the ebbs and tides of this NFL season, but the potential for a Jets/Packers Super Bowl may place undue complications on my personal quest to survive through Super Bowl Sunday.
As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up in Staten Island, New York and still have strong connections with friends and family back there. Staten Island is usually considered up-for-grabs country, an even mix of Giants and Jets fans with a noticeable third-party helping of Cowboys bandwagoneers on standby. But when one team’s success rises above the other, the momentum shifts drastically.
The cross-sport alignment of these fans is pretty well established; Giants fans are mainly Yankees fans and Jets fans are usually Mets fans. Because of this unfortunate alignment, the suffering of Jets fans is often compounded by the annual disappointments brought about during baseball season. Therefore, when the Jets make a run for glory, their fans go all out. More green clothes, flags on houses and cars, brazen display of memorabilia and blatant attempts at overloading the bandwagon. I specifically remember an instance in high school where the established Jets fans raided a promotions closet at a sponsored tailgate event and brought the goods to school, passing out green plastic fireman hats to each and every under- and upperclassman.
Get it?
The general populace has been lucky enough to avoid a Jets Super Bowl scenario for over 40 years now; it would be near impossible to hold a conversation with anyone from the New York area without discussing football if they pick up a win over the Steelers today. Steelers fans are insufferable enough, but at least it’s somewhat supported by both distant and recent legacies of success.
But that’s just on one side of the brackets…on the other side is the potential for an even more immediate threat: a father-in-law on Cloud Nine. If you’ll remember from the early days of Year Without Football, Melissa’s father is a Cheesehead, to the level of attempting to indoctrinate our unborn daughter through gifts of clothing. The only time I actually watched an entire game this year was a situation where I didn’t want to be rude at his house.
A two-week period where hometown Jets euphoria collides with family Packers elation…and I’d be caught in the middle trying to maintain a friendly face while shouting “LALALAICANTHEARYOU!” with my fingers in my ears and my eyes tightened shut.
An artist's rendition of the Rossiter household over the next two weeks.
This might be one of those weekends where my uncle used to pray for “Mutual Spontaneous Human Combustion”: a cosmic intervention where neither of the destined participants are guaranteed victory.
DR
Day 167: Provisions for the Home Stretch
My goal for the weeks leading up to the Super Bowl is to remain oblivious to the participants.
My goal for the days following is to avoid discovering a winner, score, or MVP.
The steps I’ve taken so far in the Year Without Football need to be amplified even further to accomplish this. I plan on taking a pretty drastic step in restricting Facebook viewing all together. I had anticipated limiting Facebook status access from certain blocks of people: those in the sports and media industries (accounting for 31% of my Facebook acquaintances), those from the New York area anticipating a Jets victory (just over 20%) and college or local friends who have exhibited football-status tendencies (another 13%). After taking this informal inventory of interpersonal relationships, I discovered that a full 36% of my online connections are people I rarely see post, haven’t heard from in years, or simply “doubles” in cases where the person has abandoned one account in favor of another. I couldn’t risk the potential for a “sleeper agent” in that 36%. Starting tomorrow, at 11:59pm, I’m off of Facebook and Twitter until 2pm February 7th.
Why that time on the day after the Super Bowl? Faceoff for the annual New England masochistic rite of post-secondary passage: the Beanpot Tournament.
Once I make it to Beanpot Monday, I’m homefree from football.
I’m also handing over control of the remote to Melissa; in an unprecedented move, I will willfully cede any objections to programming. Sure, it’s a goodwill gesture to a pregnant wife who’s been an incredible motivator. It’s a shrewd investment: I know she won’t go anywhere near mention of the Super Bowl because her station is carrying the game itself (prepare for cross-promotion overload!). I will suffer the necessary penance of innumerous showings of “House Hunters” and “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant/Dead/in a Toddler Pageant” in order to make it through this difficult season.
I’ll still be able to receive messages through the online outlets but due to my personal connections to the fanbases of the potential matchups, I’ll have to pull back into digital seclusion for the better part of two weeks. I’m eager to watch others mired in Super Bowl hype, and I don’t mind saying that I absolutely won’t miss the annual inanities that the extra bye week brings. No “Video Game Simulation to See Who Will Win” for me this year. No “Random Spanish-Language Costumed Correspondent at Media Day.” No “See the Commercials BEFORE the Big Game!” No “7-Hour Pre-Game Show starring Meaningless B-Team Broadcaster Awards, Performance by Anonymous Teeny-Bop Singer and Battered 70s Act, Low Info Reports from the Team Hotel, and Generic and Kinda Insulting Salute to the Troops!”
The question remains, however, what to do on Super Bowl Sunday itself? I’d hate to waste a National Couch Potato Day on the computer or on XBox Live. I mentioned to KBAK in an interview that I might visit Disneyland, but I’m not sure that my pregnant wife would be perceptive to a 5-hour round-trip drive with a full day of walking to rides she can’t enjoy.
What to do…? Please feel free to send me any suggestions.
DR
Day 162: Missing Out
The last month has been pretty eventful and I hate writing these “reasons why I got lazy” posts, but the last 30 days involved a full house move, hectic holidays, a return to substituting, the final tests and classes leading to the completion of my teaching credential and the continued preparations for our daughter, Hollie.
It’s been busy enough that sports have taken a back seat all together. In the past, I would have postponed any and all activities that interfered with a Northeastern men’s hockey broadcast. Nowadays, I have to remind myself to check the score on my cell phone, just so I don’t fall out of touch. And that’s for my FAVORITE team. Facebook and Twitter have been helpful because of friends on site who are able to post details about the games.
There are sports fans everywhere in this country, but after my heavy travelling days ended I realized that the fan culture in the Northeast is far and above any other region in the U.S. Local sports media is strong, the population is better informed, telecasts are part of a routine. Some places are pretty intense about a team, but rarely invest enough passion over multiple sports. Part of the reason I decided to go to school in Boston was to experience what I thought was an even more intense atmosphere than the New York area in which I was raised. To be honest, the most disappointing thing about moving to California has been apathy: people are either out of touch with anything outside of ESPN highlights or they’re football fans and that’s it. I’m still at my current level of emotional investment because of the people I grew up with and stay in contact with.
That’s why today’s going to be rough: Jets vs. Patriots. Today’s game is the first time I really feel like I’m missing out on sharing an event with friends. It means that Facebook is off-limits today and probably tomorrow as well. It means I couldn’t actually hear the supposedly entertaining Wes Walker press conference. The New York/Boston dynamic is in play and Jets fans have always carried that passionate desperation that for so long defined the New England region through the Red Sox. The divisional dynamic elevates the game above a standard Pats/Giants showdown.
You would figure it’d be a bit looser; my experiences have led me to believe that Most Jets fans are also Mets fans, while Giants fans lean towards the Yankees due to their habitual need to have their allegiance validated by championships. Boston fans don’t care; both groups of New York football fans are geographically indistinguishable.
My most vivid Jets/Patriots memory was the infamous Joe Namath/Suzy Kolber game. I was preparing to produce the post-game show on WEEI with Pete Sheppard when we noticed something was off about Namath. I thought he was just a cold man in his 70s. Pete thought he was exhibiting the early signs of Parkinson’s disease.
“…!!! He’s cocked!” We scrambled to get the audio cut and instantly, a meme was born.
The hardest part has been missing out on what sounds like another awesome Patriots run. Their renaissance in 2001-02 coincided with my entry into pro sports with WEEI, so I’ve always felt a connection stronger than I ever had with my hometown pro football squads. I avoided all of the college bowls successfully and don’t feel like I’m worse off for it.
I have to miss Pats/Jets today, and it’s the first time during the Year Without Football that it feels like I’m turning my back on the people that helped and continued to foster my passion for the games.
DR
Day 121: Blissful Ignorance
Apparently the BCS Selection show was yesterday. I was attending a company holiday party with Melissa and missed any and all news of bowl appearances for the sport’s phantom championship. I’m sure the choices were “controversial” (PR code for inexplicable), someone will claim they got screwed (an undefeated team from a non-BCS conference), the ratings will go south and no one will be satisfied.
Meanwhile, the WWE held their King of the Ring tournament last week, a single-elimination format comprised of eight wrestlers leading to a prestigious title, complete with crown, robe and scepter. How is it that PRO WRESTLING can handle a playoff-type tournament yet the NCAA can’t figure it out? The transition wouldn’t be too rough since most of it tends to be pre-determined…
This weekend, though football-free, was busy nevertheless. I completed the RICA exam, a reading instruction competency evaluation that’s considered the final step to fully credentialed to teach in California. Four hours were alotted, and I was among the first finishers at 3.5 hours. All that’s left is a mandatory CPR class and I’m homefree. Then there was the revelation that our landlord has decided to sell our rental home, thus requiring its vacancy in 30 days. Luckily, this is a favorable time to rent as many newer homes sit vacant with no expectations of sale due until an uptick in the economy occurs. Homes listed for rental last about a week before they’re snatched up. We’ve already had a handful of applications processed and we’ll have a bountiful choice before settling on a new place.
The move should help keep my mind from straying back to football during the home stretch of the NFL regular season. I’m still pretty cloudy on the performance on most of the teams. I don’t know any team’s records and am vaguely aware of certain teams’ performances. The Patriots and Saints are doing well, the Cowboys are in the toilet and the Jets are, well, exactly where their fans imagined they’d be. That’s about the extent of what I know about the NFL this year.
It’s been tricky trying to come up with new things to post over the last few weeks. I’ve hit the point where there’s not much new to report about something that’s NOT a big part of my life anymore. I’ve gotten past any urges to turn to an ESPN channel to catch up or to stay on VERSUS to watch a possession during a college game.
But that time is drawing to a close. Once the NFL playoffs begin, I’m going to have to take this into overdrive. A new plan is forming, and A Year Without Football might just take me into the dark ages of information…
DR
Day 116: The Rundown
There isn’t one big event to report, just a bunch of smaller ones.
- The only football story I encounter really had nothing at all to do with the actual game: a couple of Facebook updates about Tom Brady’s rumored hairplugs.
Again, if this was the biggest story of the week, it reinforces one of my main fundamental issues with football. It’s not about the game, it’s about celebrity buzz and hype.
- I finished my teaching credential courses last week and just have to pass a reading instruction competency exam on Saturday in order to clear the final hurdle. It’s going to feel REAL good to be done, but it doesn’t look like there’s a ton of jobs out there quite yet.
- Tomorrow is a major update on Hollie. We’re going in for a thorough ultrasound to check on her development.
- Finally, there’s the news that Antoine Walker is about to sign an NBA D-League contract with the Idaho Stampede. Here’s where it gets fun: guess where Idaho is headed this weekend… It’s a Friday-Saturday-Monday series in Bakersfield. I’ll be courtside for the D-League debut of “The Wiggle.” FanHouse reported that this move is intended to showcase Walker’s determination and dedication to an honest NBA return. Well, ‘Toine, your first step back to the NBA is gonna be to check in at MY table.
See you Friday.
DR
Day 111: Time or Money?
Melissa and I work very different schedules. When I’m teaching, I’m home when she’s at work. That’s great for when the baby arrives, but it makes communication and entertainment difficult at times. We spend most of our shared time together on the weekends catching up with our agreed shared television series. We’ll watch The Office, Fringe, Dexter, How I Met Your Mother, etc. There’s a lot to catch up on and we do all of it via online sources like Hulu and Netflix. We don’t have appointment viewing during regularly scheduled events anymore. Even her own shows like General Hospital are viewed online at her convenience.
For all the viewing we do online, we’re starting to notice a discrepancy between the amount we pay for cable and the amount of time we spend watching scheduled programming. Going over the itemized statement, it occured to me that I pay for the Sports Pack and only watch one or two of the channels included.
A few weeks ago, I calculated an estimate of how much time I spent following football during the course of an average season: an eye-opening two-and-a-half weeks. So, in an effort to continue my self-evaluation of sports investment, I decided to calculate exactly how much I pay for the games I watch.
The Sports Pack on my cable provider cost about $9.99/month, which includes Fox College Sports, Fox Soccer Channel’s HD feed, the greatly outdated ESPN Classic and a variety of other fledgling peripheral sports networks like Tennis Channel, the Sportsman Channel, and FUEL TV. Have I ever watched any of these with any regularity?
No. Never. $120 bucks a year? Saved.
This is kinda fun…but is it time to take this logic to the next level? Could it be possible to stay as invested as I am in my sports WITHOUT cable?
The main channels, ESPN, Fox Sports Net, Versus…just about all of the content they provide is readily available online. It’s already there, either through verified league programming subscriptions like NHL Gamecenter ($170/season). Bright House finally picked up the rights to ESPN3, so I’ll be able to watch that through my XBox 360. All of the major events will still be held on free over-the-air broadcast television…why do I need $65/month ($780/year!) cable again???
Melissa still uses some of the channels, but some (SOAPNet) will not be around for much longer and some (TLC, HGTV, etc.) have exhausted their programming supply to the point of oversaturation or deviated so far from their programming niche as to be indistinguishable from the pack.
We’ll likely hang on to digital cable for another couple years or so, but I’m definitely ditching the Sports Pack. It’s a product I simply don’t have any use for. The strange thing is…I don’t feel that it’s an indictment of my level of dedication to a cherished pastime. It’s just another example of how dramatically my priorities have shifted over the last year. Between teaching and my soon-to-be-born daughter, I just don’t have the time or patience to sit in front of a television set waiting to be entertained.
It’s gotta happen on my terms.
DR
Thanksgiving Experiment – Part 2
Finished dinner at country buffet: in & out in just over an hour. It’s a Thanksgiving Express. Nearly 250 folks at the tables and surprisingly only three sightings of football perihernalia (a Packers camo ballcap, a 49ers pullover, and a Tony Romo Cowboys XXXL jersey).
Melissa’s working tonight, which means it’s me and Braddock at the house. The Thanksgiving TV schedule is a lowest common denominator wasteland: country music specials, holiday movie marathons, reruns and B-list celebrity interviews.
I’m starting to wonder if I had enough turkey to put me out for the remainder of the evening…but it looks like I’ll make it without a major gridiron intrusion this Thanksgiving.
DR
Thanksgiving Experiment – Part 1
11:01amPST: NBC airs their first Sunday Night Football promo of the parade. Peyton Manning…Future Hall-of-Famer…somethingorother…
Turns out the choice to watch the parade helps to cancel out the Pats/Lions game here on the West Coast. Definitely helped to minimize the damage, even if it means feeling inadequately old; I have no clue who half these performers are.
DR
Day 110: The Thanksgiving Plan
It took a while for Melissa’s family to finalize plans for Thanksgiving because of her work schedule (she’s working today). What resulted might ended up being the most obvious way to successfully last the day without any interference: dinner out.
Here’s the Thanksgiving schedule:
9am – Fire up the television and watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.
I’m partially embarrassed to admit this, but I’m a 28-year-old man who still makes sure to wake up in time for the Parade. Even worse, since I moved to California, I’ve been just as excited to watch the tape delay. I guess I could fall back on the logic that I’m “practicing” for Hollie, but who am I kidding? It’s one of those things that will always have a direct connection to my childhood. It’s why I still make Rudolph/Frosty/Year Without A Santa Claus appointment television every year, or make a Lenten sacrifice even though my only visits to a church in the last decade have been weddings or tourist curiosity. It’s something I did as a kid growing up in New York and helps connect with my heritage.
So, I’m a grown man who gets excited for Thanksgiving parades. What are YOU gonna do about it?!?!
12pm – Parade concludes as Santa rolls through Herald Square.
It seems like a strange marker of time for folks here in California, but I firmly subscribe to the philosophy that the Christmas season can’t officially begin until the Big Man makes his appearance to close the parade. We’re not talkin’ your run-of-the-mill, mall workin’, fake beardin’, baby traumatizin’ Santa’s helper. The Macy’s Santa = the REAL DEAL. Christmas doesn’t begin until HE decides it does. Side note: I caught one of my students writing a letter to Santa during a math lesson. I held it up and admonished her not for being off-task but for not being patient enough to let Santa rest before Thanksgiving. True story.
2pm – Depart for Thanksgiving dinner at…Hodel’s Country Buffet.
I’ve had Thanksgiving dinners in unique settings prior to my move to California. There was the first non-homemade dinner at Staten Island’s Golden Dove diner. In college, it was a competitive meal on the road as I joined the Northeastern Huskies men’s hockey team during a holiday swing in New York’s North Country of Potsdam and Canton, just one banquet room over from conference rival Providence College (This was where I had first heard the term “shoe bombing” used outside of the media realm of terrorism: explanation due another day). There was the inevitable Thanksgiving alone in Boston where I successfully trained my bird-cooking skills on a duck instead of a turkey.
Melissa’s family usually meets for Thanksgiving dinner at the Country Buffet. It’s a pretty wild scene: a large room with rows and rows of tables full of families too exhausted or too incapable of preparing their own holiday feasts. The food is actually pretty good, but it’s a little strange sharing the meal with about 200-300 strangers. The benefit of the meal this year: no TVs on location. No TVs = No football.
The meal will be done by 3:30pm-4pm at which point Melissa returns to work and I return home, filling my time as I normally would with the exception of CBS or FOX.
A strict adherence to the plan and I’ll have successfully navigated through the first big football holiday of the year. I’ll try to keep running updates of any encounters that may spring up today.
Happy Thanksgiving!
DR
Day 105: Jam Session
One of my professors who I used to work with during my time in minor league hockey asked me if I was still interested in being involved in broadcasting. My unwavering response was twofold: “I don’t think I could stay in a field where I could be replaced by someone with twice my qualifications and pay him half as much” and “Sports is kind of like ground sausage: you really enjoy it at face value but you don’t want to see how it’s made.”
Maybe that’s why I’ve found a happy medium as an official scorer for the Bakersfield Jam of the NBA Developmental League. It affords me the chance to work at the professional level for a full season while having the freedom to focus my goals on the field of education.
The students are also impressed that I’m one of the “priviledged few” who gets to see the Jam in action.
There’s a lot of attention paid locally to the Jam’s new affiliation with the Los Angeles Lakers, so much so that they’ve had to expand capacity in their arena. To 500.
That is correct, there are no zeros missing. Seating capacity at the Jam Events Center is 500.
Here’s the story: When the team began play about five years ago, they played their games at the city’s 8,000 -seat Rabobank Arena. The affiliations weren’t that attractive to the locals: Sacramento Kings and Golden State Warriors. The games were scheduled around the buildings primary tenants, the hockey team. There was very little promotion on local television. Long story short: after a few seasons of drawing in the hundreds the team announced it would cease operations.
Team ownership found themselves stuck with a dead franchise and a half-built practice facility…both of which were still assets of considerable value. The practice facility still had room to change before completion, but could still hold an extremely limited capacity.
One of the foundations of business says that if you’ve got a limited supply of something, you need to find ways to increase demand. The Jam offered each and every one of their seats as season tickets, converted some to “courtside suites” (tables with wait service) and included bonuses such as free memberships at gyms and country clubs. It was your basic corporate sports marketing plan without the “hassle” of standard ticket sales. The Jam branded their games as networking events with greater access to the professional game than any other team in town. Critics complain that this strategy effectively shuts the “average fan” out. If the average fan was truly interested in the first place, the Jam would probably still be playing at Rabobank Arena.
To start their 5th season of operation, the Jam defeated the Tulsa 66ers in front of a sellout crowd of 500. Every game this season is a guaranteed announced sellout. The revenues from this strategyshould allow the team to continue operations on its own terms.
The question now becomes: what other struggling franchises will make a similar move? We’ve seen the ECHL shrink from membership in the high twenties down to a barely functional 19 this season; minor league baseball clubs are constantly in a state of flux. Diminished interest and ticket revenue coupled with vanishing corporate sponsorship is across the board. Teams are starting to recognize the supply of their brand of entertainment is too high.
The Jam model might be the only logical step.
DR
Day 103: The Numbers Game
“Teachable moment”: Take ownership of your choices before someone else does.
About four months into my stint with the Bakersfield Condors as their broadcaster, I was asked to participate in the team’s alumni/celebrity game. I hardly considered myself a celebrity, but it’s a small town; TV and newspaper reporters were considered “celebrities”, why not me? The game included various alumni from the team’s past as well as coaches who have played in the NHL and retirees who actually suited up for Team USA in the Olympics back in the 60s.
The game’s organizer, former player Kevin Barrett, called me about two weeks before the game and asked me what number I’d like to wear. I was apprehensive about selecting a number because players take their digits to heart; they’ve worked a career to earn the right to wear those chosen numbers and I didn’t want to swipe anyone’s out of respect. I politely declined the opportunity and decided to allow Kevin to choose for me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, just pick a number that you don’t think anyone else will wear.”
“I definitely will…<CLICK>”
I thought nothing of it…but looking back on the cryptic end to that conversation, I should have been prepared…
…Devin Rossiter – “The Great One”.
I knew what this meant, and my students knew what this meant since they had just finished Jack Falla’s wonderful “Home Ice.”
I got knocked around by those guys. ”Get up, Gretzky!” “This is like the video game scene from Swingers!” “You’re only about 1,000 points away from the record!”
The joke at the end of the night was that many in attendance had assumed I wore No. 66, since that’s the way it appeared as I was off my skates for so much of the evening.
The point I wanted to make was that there are some numbers you just don’t wear in certain situations. You’d never try to wear No. 3 while playing for the Yankees, or No. 32 for the Lakers…
“Or No. 12 for the Patriots, like Tom Brady! Right, Mr. Rossiter?!”
…Yeah, just like that, kid.
DR
Day 99: Pacquiao vs. Punch Drunk
By the end of the sixth round, Antonio Margarito’s right cheek resembled a well-done steak.
Last night’s 12-round super welterweight title fight at Cowboys Stadium (lost a buck for the location…dammit…) was a clinical dissection by Manny Pacquiao. A video instructional manual: “How to Humble a Larger Opponent.” Pacquaio broke through Margarito’s defenses with a leading right jab then initiated combinations with the sharp left under Margarito’s right eye. The swelling started by the third round and by the fourth, the eye was about 80% swollen shut. With that, Pacquaio began work on the left cheek, sufficiently closing vision on Margarito’s clear side. Next, work began over Margarito’s right eye, opening a cut significant enough to begin blood flow into the eye itself and further obstruct Margarito’s vision. By the 12th closing bell, Margarito had taken nearly 400 punches to the head…including over 250 to the cheeks and forehead.
This was the systematic deconstruction of a human being. In this controlled, trained setting…it was captivating.
—
One of my main qualms with football recently has been the reluctance to take significant action to stem the increase in youth concussions attributed to the sport. So how can I condone the similarly violent head blows which take place in the sport of boxing? Is it possible that boxing actually does more to prevent early and frequent concussions than football does?
At its earliest stages until one enters the pro ranks, boxers are required to wear thickly-padded head gear along with the ubiquitous padded gloves. Sparring sessions are closely monitored by trainers and are strictly regimented. The fights themselves are fairly infrequent, perhaps three or four per year for the average professional boxer. The fighters are trained predominantly, and reminded during pre-fight instructions, to protect themselves at all times. Referees are trained to identify a fighter’s inability to defend himself and interject immediately.
While boxing reports the highest incidence of concussions among professional males of any contact sport, the major difference is length of time dictated between suffering a concussion and the return to activity. In boxing, you’ve got as much time as you need to recover from a concussion. American football is littered with stories of young players’ careers ending or worse because a coach thought he was “dinged up” or “seeing stars” and was sent back onto the field after a few plays.
—
This isn’t to say that boxing is a safer sport than football, but boxing tends to have a stronger awareness of its inherent health risks and has moved to stem those injuries before they get any worse. I guess that’s how I justify my enjoyment of boxing after all these years. I attended Golden Gloves fights in Brooklyn on cold Friday nights as a kid. We “acquired” many of the major fights from Tyson through Lennox Lewis including the the sport’s most frequent visitor to the Rossiter living room, Julio Cesar Chavez.
Even as the rise of mixed martial arts began with guys like Tank Abbott, Dan Severn, Ken Shamrock and Royce Gracie I always held a greater appreciation for the boxer, even to this day. When two men face off in an octagon or cage setting, the result is based mainly on instinct an ability to use any skill you may bring to the table. Boxing is the great equalizer: each contestant has three weapons to utilize. Fists for attacking/defending, body for positioning, and the mind for strategy. More than anoth other contact sport, you’ve got to be smart in boxing to excel because of the nature of the game. Are you going to counter an opponent with speed? Stamina? Power? These are dynamic decisions that are made over the course of potenially sixty minutes of energy-draining movement. Those short on logic are not rewarded with lengthy or successful careers.
That’s why a guy like Pacquiao is so fascinating. He’s got the disadvantage of size and he overcomes it with strategy. He relentlessly deconstructs opponents of all compositions from the start and is sure to get out before he’s in trouble. He flaunts creativity and civility with his endeavors into music and politics. He understands his persona and embraces it; he’s a self-promoter who balances dignity and celebrity with a dash of self-awareness.
I feel that the biggest demerit against boxing these days isn’t the perception of damaging injury, the spectre of slimy promoters or the cost of pay-per-view for the biggest fights. There just isn’t enough personality in the game. Not enough guys who break away from stereotypes and create their own legacy. Not enough difference in background stories or compelling personas. It doesn’t have to be as extreme as Sgt. Slaughter threatening to burn the American flag or anything…just some self-awareness of who they are. Have the skills to back it up and tell us what you’re going to do with it.
—
I personally don’t think Mayweather/Pacquiao will ever happen because I don’t think Mayweather has much to gain from it anymore. If it does happen, it needs to take place at a venue befitting of what could potentially be the sport’s last great fight: Yankee Stadium. Make it the Main Event of Main Events. Bring the spectator back to the lore of the Sweet Science: the brutal simplicity of the mind, the body and the fist.
DR
Day 96: Where Did My Awareness Go?
The Year Without Football is approaching its 100th day and while personal changes to my life have guided my course of actions, I’ve found that lately I hardly notice football’s absence from my daily routine.
If anything, I’ve found that I’ve been watching sports even less.
This might be for any number of unforeseen reasons. First, the English Premier League season has been a bit of a dud. Chelsea has dominated the rest of the league and the other major teams are either treading water to keep up (Arsenal, Manchester United) or have performed poorly enough to threaten their very existence in the top flight (Liverpool). There’s a neat story developing with the resurgence and surprise FA Cup run by Ebbsfleet United, but otherwise it’s a disappointingly dull year in English soccer.
Second, my top team, the Northeastern University Men’s Hockey squad, has been downright dismal. The Huskies, competing in college hockey’s hyper-competitive Hockey East, are 1-5-2 on the year, winless at home in seven appearances (including the exhibition) and have just lost three straight against opponents from the Atlantic Hockey conference. Prior to this season, only two Hockey East teams had ever lost to an Atlantic team. Northeastern pulled it off three times in 8 days. It’s been pretty dispiriting thus far.
Third, the demands of student-teaching, credential courses and baby preparation have hit me all at once. I’m finding that I can’t really schedule time to sit down at 4pm and watch a top-tier NHL game right now. The quarter ends before Thanksgiving, so I’ll see if my routine changes. Any spare time gaps have been filled by firing up the XBox 360 (which has been temporarily placed out of commission due to the dreaded “Red Ring of Death”).
Australian Rules Football, the baseball playoffs, and the regrettably little time I make for hockey and soccer helped to stem the onslaught of football marketing to the point where I hardly notice the little things anymore. I don’t freak out and turn my head away if I’m stuck behind a team decal on the back of a pick-up truck or change the channel if a football-related story appears on a website or the news. It’s kind of become white noise…I’ve just tuned it out.
I guess that’s the true sign of a clean break…when you don’t even notice it’s there anymore.
DR
Day 92: The Dead Computer
Maybe I was too hard on the ol’ girl…
We returned back from Robin’s wedding on Sunday and collapsed into bed following another 10-hour journey back west. I awoke this morning ready to throw myself back into the fray. Big week of teaching…a major assignment due…why won’t the friggin’ thing turn on?
…
Computer’s dead. Won’t turn on.
Unplug and plug…nothing.
Hold the button…nothing.
…that’s it. I’m cracking this thing open. Nothing too serious, but my sense is that the power supply that came with the system, after months of loud puttering, has finally given out.
It’s in my best interest to find a replacement ASAP. The computer supply store around the corner doesn’t have any in at the moment, so I checked next door at Radio Shack. Radio Shack isn’t really a computer supply store anymore, but they were there and I decided to give it a shot.
They didn’t have too many computer parts, but they DID have plenty of televisions. All of them turned to the same station in demonstration mode…on Monday Night.
Blitzed by an entire wall of Steelers/Bengals.
[Cue "O Fortuna"]
…great to be back home…
DR
Day 90: The Wedding Experiment
We’ve been back in the New York area this weekend for the wedding of my sister, Robin. Melissa and I are both in the wedding party and it would be the last chance for her to visit my family on the East Coast before the birth of Hollie.
Since this is a situation in which many of the wedding’s guests are unaware of Year Without Football, I decided to document the instances where I make those inevitable and unavoidable connections.
9:45am – We’re headed to Staten Island from West Orange in a southeastern direction. Our route to the New Jersey Turnpike takes us north instead of south and I suddenly find myself serendipitously en route past notorious Exit 16W. Before we can correct our course, I have to pass by the Meadowlands and the fresh monstrosity that the Giants and Jets call home not once…but twice.
10:25am – I arrive at the groom’s house for morning dress and photos. The neighbor two doors down has a Jets banner draped vertically from his fence.
2:45pm – The ceremony is over and we load up the party bus for the 45-minute trip to the reception. The bus featured two plasma screens with digital receivers. The last time I was in a limo with a TV antenna was back during the Chargers/Giants snowball game…pretty staticy. Now that the over-the-air signal is digital, the picture is crystal clear…
7:00pm – Catching up with uncles and relatives. “Did you see the BC game today?!?!” comes up about 5 times.
8:00pm – The real party begins…entrance my the bridal party, including Melissa and myself. Wonderful reception, complete with LCD monitors displaying photos from as far back as the bride and groom’s childhood and as recent as a few minutes before (the photographer uploaded a flash drive for an instant slideshow). The baby shots of Robin, paired with watching her dance with my father, really hit me. It was touching for many reasons, mainly that I began to envision a similar evening with Hollie and myself down the line.
The entire weekend was a reconnection with my extended family as well as a preview of my future life as a father. The football scene is on the radar in NYC, though it takes a backseat to the New York City Marathon this weekend. Just goes to show that life and sports, like politics, are all local.
DR
