Believe It Or Not: I’m Watching the ‘Gulls
I’m watching the Seagulls game with my son. This is the straightest I’ve ever been.
I’m not good luck—I turned on the Cubs game when they almost went to the World Series a couple of years ago just in time to watch them fall apart. I hope my gaze doesn’t have the same effect on the Seattle’s suddenly beloved Seagulls.
If anything interesting happens, I’ll Slog about it. I suspect it’s going to be a while before I post anything again.
UPDATE: Something just happened—a catch or something. It appears that number 15 caught the ball near our scoring area—wait! Now it’s a touchdown for the Seagulls. Things are going well—but remember, I’m watching. And I’m bad, bad luck. Okay, now we’re going to I’m guessing either a beer or a car commercial…
UPDATE 2: Now the other team is—what is it called? Up? At bat? In possession of the ball? Ah, an interception! One of the ‘Gulls caught a ball that was not thrown to him! This is rude, yes? But the crowd is loving it. The other team is very, very sad.
UPDATE 3: Wait. My son tells me that the Seagulls now have ten points. How’d that happen? I know that our sudddenly beloved ‘Gulls can get six for a touchdown, and one for a field goal, and there’s some other thing you can do for three points. But when did they do it? I’m paying attention—or I thought I was. How’d that slip past me? I haven’t even had a drink yet—maybe I should go get one?
UPDATE 4: I can see the artistry and athleticism in, say, baseball or basketball. But this game just looks like two bunchs of fat guys slamming into each other—oh! These two guys just slammed into each other head first!
“Did one of them lose a tooth or something?” my son asks. “I saw something fly out of his mouth when they hit each other.”
Oh, more bad news for the other team—hey, I don’t even know the name of the other team. Let’s call ‘em the Gerbils. We grabbed another ball not intended for us. More rudeness, more sadness. We are “down inside the two… Seattle knocking on the door again.” And now another car commercial. Or, if you prefer, a classic George Carlin routine from 1975. He compares football to baseball. Baseball comes off sounding nicer.
UPDATE 5: I am hungry. But this game happens so fast—another touchdown for the Gulls!—that I can’t leave the couch to go get some chow. My boyfriend just brough me a drink, but he told me to fuck myself when I said “get me something to eat, bitch.” I’m drinking Lillet. It’s very nice on ice. We got that extra little point—now it’s 17 to nothing, and the Gerbils are very, very sad. But there’s still three more halfs to go and I’m watching, which is bad, bad luck.
OH! More bad luck! My son just said, “The Seagulls are definately going to make it to the Superbowl.” Presuming upon victory will anger God and the ‘Gulls will lose, I warn him. We must expect the worse.
I just got an email from a co-worker asking me if he can go to Miami and cover the Superbowl. But it’s in Detroit. What a dumb fag my co-worker is.
UPDATE VI: I’m switching to Roman numerals. A reader writes…
I assume football to be one of the least gay-friendly spectator sports. You can’t even admire nice bodies under those ugly uniforms and padding. At least you can spot a nice ass on baseball players.
There has been only one attractive football player ever: Jason Sehorn. He’s married to Angie Harmon, and I believe he’s a Republican. Which is too bad.
But, yeah, baseball players are generally better looking—and fewer are obese.
UPDATE VII: We have the ball again? I was too busy doing a Google image search on Jason Sehorn to pay attention to the game. It’s third down and twelve—don’t know what that means, but it’s not so good. Gull Number 8 looks like he might be cute. “A hole hurt Seattle and in the end it’s three and out.” What does that mean?
Oh, no! One of the Gerbils is running toward our special spot—oh, they’re called the Panthers. The Panther coach looks upset about their touchdown not really being a touchdown. “There is no foul on the play.” So they got a “59 yard punt return on the touchdown.” Or something. But now the Panthers are in the game. I blame my son: If he hadn’t said that thing about the ‘Gulls going to the Superbowl for sure, the other team wouldn’t have scored. Damn kid.
UPDATE VIII: We was robbed, apparently. The Panthers got the touchdown even though someone was actually doing something unbecoming of a footballer.
Look at this. Don’t those stars make it look like MLK is getting his head blown off? Weird.
More car commercials. “Dad, what’s a sticker price?” my son asks.
We have the ball. We are still winning. But I am still watching. A hole has been created on the inside, I hear. This is good. Oh, we got a penalty. Too bad.
UPDATE IX: We looking at a field goal attempt. Can we do this whenever we want? He kicks, he scores three points. It’s now 20 to 7. Good for us.
The TV talking head says: “The world is seeing how good and how dangerous the Seatle offense can be.” Particularly to their wives.
UPDATE X: Random thoughts…
The ‘Gulls coach looks like all of my uncles.
I hope they show that commercial where the woman says, “Nothing’s going to stop us now—not even frequent heartburn!” I love that commercial.
We have no snacks in the house—no chips, no salsa, no nothin’. No, wait. Found some pretzels. Whew.
“The tight end’s been busy in this first round.” He. He.
“What does that mean? ‘Third down and seven’?” asks the boyfriend. I have no idea, so I just shrug. DJ says, “I don’t think it’s good, dad, huh?”
Okay, we’re going for another field goal. Didn’t make it. Too bad, so sad.
UPDATE XI: The half is over. I’m going to go find some chips—even if I have to cross the street to find them. I’m not going to comment during the half-time show—I’ll leave that to Schmader. Oh, wait. This isn’t the Superbowl, there is no half-time show. Just a half-time “report.” Whoops. DJ was all excited about seeing the Rolling Stones. More later.