It's Game Time, Do You Care Where Your Children Are?

In "The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe", Lily Tomlin says "My life got so busy that I had to give up something, so I chose reality." I can't think of a better way to begin today's post than by recognizing the familiarity of that statement. One of our favorite pastimes as a culture is to separate ourselves from the day-to-day. That's why we go to movies, that's why we immerse ourselves in literature, that's why we turn our cell phones off in the theatre, that's why we look at web porn. We want so desperately to escape our own humdrum stresses, that we need to let go of reality for a while, and focus on something else.
This is my favorite time of year. Yes, the exciting drama of the countdown between Thanksgiving and New Year's is filled with fun, family, frivolity, and other F-words. But, I also find this end of the calendar to be most enjoyable because it's championship season in football. Between high school teams vying for that state championship on under the crisp Friday night lights, to the colleges competing for conference championships in the hopes of making an elite bowl game, this is excitement. The drama is real and Shakespearean in its' scope. The athletes have prepared their whole lives to withstand 60 minutes of sheer anxiety, pressure, and that tension and energy that comes from playing before a packed house of rowdy fans. And that's what I want to focus on today: The fans.
Yes, yes, I know that athletes get the credit for the wins, and the blame for the losses. Yes, games are played out on the field and not in front of the TV. Passes are thrown from the line of scrimmage, and not from the armchair. I understand that as reality, but fandom opens a whole new universe where the die-hards are blissfully divorced from said reality. Take me, for instance. I recognize that on game day, the rest of the world stops. From kickoff to the final ticks of the fourth quarter, my world exists solely in between the hashmarks, only from a much safer distance.
Being a true fan means a lot more than being a casual observer of the game. Remember, fan is short for fanatic (and a more appropriate sobriquet does not apply). For the uninitiated into the world of true fandom, may I offer some helpful insights below:

1.) THE RITUALS MORE SACRED THAN CATHOLIC RITES
As game day arrives, there are certain preparations that must take place. I am quite positive that the players are going through their stretches, mental walkthroughs, and emotional revving up. That's all great and good, but you cannot overlook the amount of work the fan has done in getting ready for the kickoff.
A. First, there's the attire. To gain the proper mojo, you need to have your game day shirt. For some it's a jersey, for others a pullover. A simple t-shirt, a button-down modelled after the one your coach is wearing, or maybe even a concoction of home-made means. Regardless, you have the shirt, the shoes, the pants, the body paint (which is still appropriate, even if you are viewing from home), and all of the proper gear ready to go. This outfit will not change. Ever. My own game day shirt looks like it hosted a moth bar mitzvah. It has unidentifiable stains from the various pre-game meals from over the years. It's not fit for public wear. But every Saturday during football season, I pull it out of its' safe home amongst the other, fancier t-shirts, and wear it like a tuxedo. I once had a girlfriend who wanted to do something special for me, so she went out and bought a new, fresh, shirt, almost identical (though in much better condition) to my own relic. She just couldn't understand why I wouldn't wear it instead. I didn't understand why she wanted my team to lose because I would be wearing an illicit forgery. She told me I was too concerned with football. I told her she was too concerned with being a bitch. She is no longer in the picture, so let's move on.
B. Second, there's the mental focus. You must know your team like you know the sundry condiments in the back of your fridge. Starters for defense, offense, special teams. You have to be able to identify substitutions when they occur. Sure, you may not be able to remember other trivial stuff like dates for anniversaries, spousal birthdays, or even your kids' full names, but you will know every jersey number, first and last name, and high school for every player on the roster. It's your job. I am ready to step in and take over the play-calling should the coordinators or coaches become suddenly ill. You must have your concentration skills at their highest peak. How else can you give them imaginary high fives, and chest bumps?
C. Finally, there's the physical preparation. I do calisthenics that would make a 1960's workout video jealous. I am limber, cat-like and nimble in my movements, and ready to toss my football back and forth between hands. I have my pump-up playlist that includes various versions of the fight song (including one sung by a drag queen), and other appropriate music. I have given my body the temple treatment it deserves, I am ready to cheer.

2.) IT'S GAME TIME, WATCH WHERE YOU STEP
Once the game begins, I am like an alchemist, carefully weighing every movement I make and judging its' effect on what's happening on the field. If I reach for a chip and my team fumbles, there will be no more pringles for the duration of the game. If I stand up and my team scores, chairs become instantly verboten. I adhere to the chaos principle's "butterfly effect". I know that what I am doing while watching the game, no matter how trivial or insignificant, can have drastic and outstanding effects on a game being played hundreds of miles away. Yeah, that second blocked kick came as the result of me standing on one foot with a beer can poised over my head in the most amazing display of balance ever exhibited! I have been known to contort myself into ridiculous positions if I see positive consequences. I completely believe in the power of football feng shui. It's the small sacrifices that a fan is willing to make that help bring home the trophies.

3.) THE SPACE TIME CONTINUUM CAN BE ALTERED BY A FAN
There are, upon occasion, times when I am unable to watch a game live. These are stressful times, but I must make do. Thanks to the magic of DVR, I can record the game while I'm making my presence known at some unnecessary wedding scheduled by an insensitive bride and her whipped husband. I can occupy my brain with other thoughts while sitting through an ungodly production of "Wizard of Oz". I can stay focused until I can get back to the sanctity and sweetness of my living room and press play. Granted, the biggest obstacle in these instances is avoiding any and all contact with anyone who might be watching (or have already watched) the game. I carefully screen my calls with the muddled: "Ifyouknowthescoreofthegamedon'tsayanythingorI'llhurtyourchildren!" I ignore all text messages. I steer clear of TVs, and keep my radio tuned to the safe sounds of NPR (I figure the day NPR starts reporting college scores is a sign of the coming armageddon and I now have bigger things to worry about...i.e. the blood and fire falling from the sky). This can be difficult, but when I finally get to watch the game, it's new to me therefore, I can cheer and yell as though my words will travel through time to play their magic on something whose outcome has already occurred. I am back in my comfort zone.

4.) THE CONCLUSION HAS A STRONG BEARING ON THE REST OF THE DAY.
So the game is over, and what you do now is dictated by the outcome. If your team has just routed the opponent, you are energetic. You can celebrate moderately (unless it was against a major rival, in which case you douse yourself in champagne and call every living alumni of the rival school that you know and give them a litany of reasons as to why they might want to consider professional help). You can also go about the rest of your day or evening feeling confident, cock-sure, and full of that winning attitude that came so easily for you and your team.
If it was a last-minute, nail-biting, butt-clinching, brow-sweating final catch in the endzone, or field goal that gets blocked to add another W to your team's win/loss column, then you hug, kiss, congratulate, shake hands with, and virtually molest everyone else in the room as though you yourself had just been elected President of the US, before melting into a pool of exhaustion with a face that will carry a perpetual grin for the next seven days.
If the same scenario as above occurs, only with the game ending in a loss, then it's best to have a friend remove all breakables from within your reach before they become projectiles of death upon your TV.
If it's your team that received the beatdown, then you casually turn the TV off, burn your game day shirt, and ask "what's for dinner?"

Being a real fan often means having to explain your behavior to others. My friend Mike (who regrettably finds himself frequently working during the game), has been known to walk around his place of business with four fingers proudly held up to signify the dominance that is about to occur as the seconds pass into the opening of the fourth quarter. This is excusable to other fans. The rest of the world just needs to catch up. Afterall, it's our choice to step away from reality, we should be applauded.

Fans go through so much for their teams. The victories are hard fought, the minutes are filled with racing heartbeats, joyous highs, and inconsolable lows. When the game is over and you see the winning results posted on the scoreboard, you pride yourself in a game well watched, cheered, and generally aided. I suppose some credit goes to the players. Afterall, they helped.