I have a confession to make. I have been watching football. Okay, not just watching it, but liking it. A lot. In fact, the thought that the season is almost over makes me kinda sad. I might be a football “fan” at this point.

Why all this trepidation, you may ask? I have easily confessed elswhere on this very blog to having had unbidden erotic dreams about Harry Potter characters. What’s the big deal about watching a little football?

Well, gentle readers, football is a guilty pleasure for me on many different levels. For one thing, I did not have the kind of upbringing where football was valued. Rather, I had the kind of upbringing where I had a small Raggedy Andy doll named “Ethelred” (presumably after Ethelred the Unready, a favorite historical mental image to be sure–here comes the Viking fleet, and Ethelred has, like, one leg in his pants, saying, “Wait-wait! I’m not ready!”). For another thing, football is a giant capitalism-fest. The huge endorsements, the vast sums being spent on dorky graphics and bad hairpieces for annoying commentators who never SHUT UP, even when they have nothing to say… surely that dough could be better spent. Furthermore, many levels of football leading up to the professional one, from grammar school through college, sap precious resources from school programs that serve more students, and arguably the educational process in general. Imagine how much better off our school systems might be if as much money were spent on, say, academic scholarships or library resources as football. I know, I know, some football programs generate their own incomes–but many don’t, and often, focus is shifted from the glorification of intellectual performance and achievement to a testosterone-off. Finally, the role of women in football just sucks. There are at least a few female commentators now, and an owner or two, but everyone else associated with football who has ovaries is either there by virtue of attachement to a man, or is a cheerleader. To avoid a pro-cheerleader comment backlash, I will just say this: I don’t identify with any of the female characters in football.

So I have a lot of reasons not to like football, but I still like it. Hence the guilty pleasure angle. I had been mildly interested for a while, been to superbowl parties, occasionally followed a particular team, could talk football with the guys, but this year, I have been largely indiscriminate. Ironically, it happened because I’m writing a dissertation.

When I write a chapter, I usually go collect sources, then hang out with them at home, do some quote mining, write a bunch of stuff into the document, then edit it until it looks like a chapter. During the reading and quote mining portion, I am usually in a comfortable chair in the living room and not at the computer. I’m someone who likes a little background noise, though, so sometimes I’d have the TV on. It turns out that football is terrific background noise: consistent patter, not too distracting, goes on for a long time. It even alerts you when something really interesting happens, so you don’t miss the good stuff. I started by just having football on while I was reading because nothing else was on, but then I started to absorb things. At first, it was just funny words: Nickel defense. Nickelback. Touchback. In the pocket. Intentional grounding. Tailback. Then it was teams’ records. Six-and-oh. Four-and-two. Team X gained standing even though they lost this week because Team Y 600 miles away beat Team Z. Clearly, I was listening or something. When there was no Pats or Broncos game and I started having other favorite teams, and even favorite players on them, I knew I was in trouble.

I sheepishly confessed my growing obsession to my husband at one point, but he only encouraged it, and we started watching a lot of footbal together. I also tested the waters by telling another doctorally-engaged friend and colleague what I had been doing. She said that was how she had become a Broncos fan. I haven’t told my parents yet, but presumably they’ll see this at some point. Mom? Dad? I’ve been watching football…

So this weekend, the Broncos–whom I like when they’re playing well, and they certainly have been–are playing the Steelers for the AFC title. I’ve really enjoyed watching the Steelers this year, in large part because of The Bus. For those of you who haven’t been watching as many NFL games a week as you could find, you have GOT to tune in just to see The Bus do his thing. For one thing, the Steelers’ offensive line always seems a lot bigger than the other guys’ defensive line, and it looks funny when they face off. Watch #36 (Bettis) when the Steelers start to get close to the end zone. They’ll hand the ball off to him, and he’s surprisingly manuverable and light on his feet for a guy who outweighs an air-cooled Volkswagen engine. The best part is, though, that he’ll just keep going after four or five guys have tried to take him down and are still hanging on. He almost always gets a first down before somebody sacrifices his own body in a successful attempt to trip Bettis, and several times, I’ve seen him walk over the goal line with a bunch of dudes just hanging off him, getting dragged along with bits of turf stuck in their helmets. Plus, he’s an exuberant guy. Word is, this might be The Bus’ last year–he may retire (even though he’s younger than I am–oof!). So tune in and get an eyeful while you still can.

On the other hand, the Broncos are the home team and have pulled off a great season. I’m a bit torn.

Thanks–I feel better.