Print
E-mail
Comment
Sports provide ultimate diversion
 |
| Whitfield |
Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Well, perhaps that’s not exactly the case with our dear sports section, but you get the point.
I am both delighted and honored to take over as sports editor of The Observer. I know the task will be tough, especially following such legends as Corey Turner, Jonathan Yardley and the recently departed Joe Musarra, guys who established a high standard for other editors to follow.
However, I look forward to covering Humble-area sports with as much energy and passion as is humanly possible.
But enough about that. I’m not going to bore you with a 3,000-word manifesto or some kind of grand scheme for Observer sports. Life’s too short for that kind of stuff.
Instead, I’m going to talk a little football.
There is no word strong enough to describe how much I hate the Dallas Cowboys.
I have followed football since I was 5 years old, and no franchise has inspired as much anger in me as the Cowboys have.
For years I watched them win and win and win while my beloved Houston Oilers went from an AFC powerhouse to a laughingstock to the Tennessee Titans. I stewed in my own disgust as those obnoxious Cowboys fans bragged about their team’s greatness.
Oh, how I hate those fans. They’re the biggest frontrunners in sports, the same people who cheered for the Bulls and the Yankees in the ‘90s, the same people who went silent when the Cowboys were stinking up the joint in the early part of this decade. Yes, I became well acquainted with those folks during my athletically-tortured childhood.
The recent years have been much, much worse for me. With the Houston Texans fighting their way to mediocrity, the Cowboys resumed their winning ways and those same insufferable Cowboys fans became even more insufferable. All I’ve heard the past three years is Romo this or T.O. that all while I’ve had to suffer through the likes of David Carr and Matt Schaub making fools of themselves.
What does all of this Cowboys hate have to do with anything? Well, I’m glad you asked.
When Hurricane Ike hit the Houston area Sept. 13, millions of people were left without access to power, gas, air conditioning or any of the other essentials that we take for granted these days.
I was extremely fortunate. Our house suffered minimal damage. On top of that, my mother and I rode out the storm at my aunt’s house in southwest Houston, near a CenterPoint Energy facility. She had power back on in two days.
While I greatly appreciated that we were able to live in relative comfort while we waited for our house to get power back, what I also liked was that come Monday night, I was able to watch a thrilling game between the Philadelphia Eagles and those dreaded Cowboys.
Now, normally I wouldn’t have given a game like this any mind. As you already know, I hate the Cowboys and I’m not particularly inclined to watch any of their games, especially when their opponent doesn’t conjure any interest in me.
But on that night, I was plastered in front of the TV.
Watching Tony Romo connect on deep ball after deep ball created a sense of normalcy for me that neither the Internet nor air conditioning could ever provide.
It didn’t matter so much that it was the Cowboys playing, but rather the fact that it was there and was something to look forward to, something that allowed me to think and breathe sports. It was a temporary diversion, but necessary nonetheless.
After two days of listening to hurricane coverage on a battery-powered television, after driving around town in a futile search for gas and seeing nothing but four-hour lines, after subsisting on little more than crackers and bottled water, I needed that.
People always ask what’s the point of following sports? They wonder why we think it is so important that someone can throw a pointy ball down a field or shoot a round ball through a basket.
I get where those people are coming from: In the grand scheme of things, most athletes aren’t going to cure cancer or eliminate poverty or solve any of the truly confounding problems our world faces.
But sports do provide a respite from the drudgery of everyday life. That’s why fans devote so much of themselves to their teams. Sports allow people to forget about the problems that plague them, if only for a short while.
So, as New Caney and Splendora get back to work and the various football, volleyball, tennis and cross country teams start up competition again, I hope you get a chance to catch your favorite team in action. It won’t help you get your roof fixed, but it will help bring things a little closer to normal.
Well, perhaps that’s not exactly the case with our dear sports section, but you get the point.
I am both delighted and honored to take over as sports editor of The Observer. I know the task will be tough, especially following such legends as Corey Turner, Jonathan Yardley and the recently departed Joe Musarra, guys who established a high standard for other editors to follow.
However, I look forward to covering Humble-area sports with as much energy and passion as is humanly possible.
But enough about that. I’m not going to bore you with a 3,000-word manifesto or some kind of grand scheme for Observer sports. Life’s too short for that kind of stuff.
Instead, I’m going to talk a little football.
There is no word strong enough to describe how much I hate the Dallas Cowboys.
I have followed football since I was 5 years old, and no franchise has inspired as much anger in me as the Cowboys have.
For years I watched them win and win and win while my beloved Houston Oilers went from an AFC powerhouse to a laughingstock to the Tennessee Titans. I stewed in my own disgust as those obnoxious Cowboys fans bragged about their team’s greatness.
Oh, how I hate those fans. They’re the biggest frontrunners in sports, the same people who cheered for the Bulls and the Yankees in the ‘90s, the same people who went silent when the Cowboys were stinking up the joint in the early part of this decade. Yes, I became well acquainted with those folks during my athletically-tortured childhood.
The recent years have been much, much worse for me. With the Houston Texans fighting their way to mediocrity, the Cowboys resumed their winning ways and those same insufferable Cowboys fans became even more insufferable. All I’ve heard the past three years is Romo this or T.O. that all while I’ve had to suffer through the likes of David Carr and Matt Schaub making fools of themselves.
What does all of this Cowboys hate have to do with anything? Well, I’m glad you asked.
When Hurricane Ike hit the Houston area Sept. 13, millions of people were left without access to power, gas, air conditioning or any of the other essentials that we take for granted these days.
I was extremely fortunate. Our house suffered minimal damage. On top of that, my mother and I rode out the storm at my aunt’s house in southwest Houston, near a CenterPoint Energy facility. She had power back on in two days.
While I greatly appreciated that we were able to live in relative comfort while we waited for our house to get power back, what I also liked was that come Monday night, I was able to watch a thrilling game between the Philadelphia Eagles and those dreaded Cowboys.
Now, normally I wouldn’t have given a game like this any mind. As you already know, I hate the Cowboys and I’m not particularly inclined to watch any of their games, especially when their opponent doesn’t conjure any interest in me.
But on that night, I was plastered in front of the TV.
Watching Tony Romo connect on deep ball after deep ball created a sense of normalcy for me that neither the Internet nor air conditioning could ever provide.
It didn’t matter so much that it was the Cowboys playing, but rather the fact that it was there and was something to look forward to, something that allowed me to think and breathe sports. It was a temporary diversion, but necessary nonetheless.
After two days of listening to hurricane coverage on a battery-powered television, after driving around town in a futile search for gas and seeing nothing but four-hour lines, after subsisting on little more than crackers and bottled water, I needed that.
People always ask what’s the point of following sports? They wonder why we think it is so important that someone can throw a pointy ball down a field or shoot a round ball through a basket.
I get where those people are coming from: In the grand scheme of things, most athletes aren’t going to cure cancer or eliminate poverty or solve any of the truly confounding problems our world faces.
But sports do provide a respite from the drudgery of everyday life. That’s why fans devote so much of themselves to their teams. Sports allow people to forget about the problems that plague them, if only for a short while.
So, as New Caney and Splendora get back to work and the various football, volleyball, tennis and cross country teams start up competition again, I hope you get a chance to catch your favorite team in action. It won’t help you get your roof fixed, but it will help bring things a little closer to normal.
Submit a Comment
|
You must be logged in to post a comment.
|
Not yet a registered member?
Click here to become one. Comments to stories and articles on the Web site are not edited or pre-approved before appearing online. Readers posting comments are solely responsible for those comments. Comments must be germane to the story to which they apply. Online comments that are libelous, profane or personally attack another site participant can be reported as abuse using the link provided on each comment. Comments reported as abusive will be reviewed and may be removed from view, as will off-topic comments. BE CIVIL. Individuals continually posting abusive comments to the site may have their registrations revoked. |
Frank the Tank wrote on Oct 6, 2009 11:13 AM: