Sunday Football

As I prepare to watch the Colts wallop the Patriots tonight, I reflect on the U.S. pastime of devoting fall weekends to American football. With all of the lovely things available for us to do on our days off, we find it difficult to resist the urge to grab a pile of snacks, sink into the couch cushions, and while away countless hours watching young men pummel each other over possession of an oblong leather ball. Given the choice, I am sure most football fans would rather be at the games in person, but when attendance isn't an option, high definition is the next best thing.

Today was a different kind of football day. It was an unusually beautiful for November. After a week of nonstop, hurricane-inspired rain, this Sunday was sunny and in the low 70s. On a surprise beautiful day like this in college, the whole campus spent the day outside, and you couldn't walk across the quad without dodging three or four frisbees. In grown-up world, unexpected spring days aren't much different. As I walked across town to claim some delicious falafel, I saw runners, folks playing tennis, kids on the basketball court, skateboarders, bikers, soccer games, and many people tossing around a football and pulling together pick-up games. Every bar I walked past on 18th Street had football games blaring but very few patrons watching those games. Today is one of those days that makes Ernie pester Bert with extra vigor.

I love the fact that Ernie cannot comprehend why Bert won't go outside to play football with him. It's so unfathomable to him that he concludes that Bert must have the Hungarian measles. That's what today felt like: if you didn't spend at least some time outside, there is no doubt in my mind that you were suffering from some horrible plague. I hope you get better soon.