Stoner bowl

There's a giant hoopla going on around here, something about football.  People I know and love are inexplicably excited about it, so I've done a little research myself.  If you, like me, are fairly unfamiliar with the whole thing, here's a primer.

There are 11 guys from Seattle, and 11 guys from Denver who really want the ball to be at their end of the field.  There's only one ball, though, called a pigskin.  It's not really made of bacon.  Their end of the field is in New Jersey.  Both of their ends are in NJ, but we'll get to that.

If I were the parent of these guys, I'd say, "Hmm, could you boys work something out using your words?  Maybe the fellows in the blue shirts can have a turn with the ball at their end for a while, and then the other guys can have it?  Here's an idea:  you could do rock paper scissors to see who gets the first turn!  Or maybe you could have a lemonade stand, and work together to earn some money to buy a second pigskin so that everyone can have it at their end at the same time!  Because, my boys, one of you may need the other one's kidney one day!  Live each day as if you will have to ask that favor any minute.  In five minutes, it could be you saying, "Dude!  I need a kidney!  Help a brotha out!"  And if you've been hurtling towards your brother, grabbing instead of using your words, he just might not be in that kidney-donating frame of mind."

But no one asked me.

So these grown men, they tussle over the ball, hurling their huge bodies into one another, causing concussions and permanent brain damage.  Together, the eleven boys cost Paul Allen $135 million a year, which I guess makes it worth it to be one of the eleven, because in one season, each of the eleven boys makes more than most people will make in a lifetime of showing up steadily in their cubicles, trying to get along with the other humans, trying hard not to cause concussions, spiritual or otherwise.

If you have trouble envisioning what $135 million looks like, picture this: all those dollars in ones, end to end, would create a circle around all of the permits I've been involved in for the past 15 years, and then loop back around my many unfinished projects, by volume.  (I added, "by volume" because that makes it sound scientific and legit.)

The more mysterious phenomenon, though, is the number 12.  Let's review:  there are 11 guys fighting eleven other guys over one ball.  Although there seems to be a lot of money flying around, they don't do the obvious thing (buy another ball!)  But here's where it gets interesting:  everyone else in the region is the twelfth person.  I know, confusing.  But stick with me.  There are a gazillion of the 12's and only eleven of the eleven.  The eleven each get their own number, but the gazillion twelves all have the number 12, and all have matching blue jerseys that Paul Allen doesn't buy for them, they pay for these shirts themselves.  The twelves are really loud.  (I'm hiding under the bed with earmuffs on, so I don't know if that's true or not, but I read about it on the internet.)

All the people with the 12 are like one person, one giant person on the team, although they never actually get to touch the ball, and they don't get paid.  (In fact, they pay, which sounds confusing but we'll save that for another time.)  On the bright side, the twelve (which is actually a gazillion) don't get so many concussions.    There is some risk of injury, though, because they do things like wear their matching blue shirts while they wave giant #12 flags from freeway overpasses.  This is to draw attention to the fact that they really care about getting the ball to the proper end of the field.  Wearing the blue jerseys helps.  They care a lot, and I mean a lot about whether the eleven guys get to have the ball at their end of the field in New Jersey.  They know it's their end because some high-fiving white guys said that's how it would be:  "Blue, welcome to New Jersey.  This is the end you guys care about.  Red, you care about the other end."  And then they do!

Anyway, all of the twelves have parties with little meatballs and Buffalo wings (wait, is buffalo named after the city or the animal?  But I digress.)  Meanwhile, me and my earmuffs and my lovely daughter are going for a walk in the sun.




Comments

  1. I love how you don't explain the title of your post, crediting us with the intelligence to get the reference.

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    1. Of course! I might be interviewing you again, btw. Right? What ever happened after the goose?

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  2. You forgot about all the people who watch "just for the commercials."
    This says a lot about our culture.
    Hope you had a really good walk.

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    1. Do people really say that? Ugh. Isn't that what Tevo (is that even how you spell it?) is all about? Skipping the commercials? Actually, I don't even know what Tevo is. I do have Teva's though.

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  3. Hey, I'm right behind you! Wait up!

    Love your description of the fans - er, the #12s!!!

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    1. Yes, your country doesn't seem as nuts. Can you believe this, Jennio? Tomorrow, the governor of WA has declared a Moment Of Loudness at 12:12. Argh. I will be hiding under the bed for sure.

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    2. Betsy, there was a piece on TV recently about hearing loss from the noise in stadiums, rinks, etc. Apparently it's becoming a real problem for the generation that attends games regularly. So you're absolutely right to avoid the noise at 12:12!!!

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  4. Thank you for all the clarification. As I did not know that there were 11 team members in football (seems like there is a lot of milling around on the "field' (which is actually astroturf and not really grass so how could they call it a field?) and who's counting the number of players anyway. 12 just mystified me until I asked someone who appeared knowledgeable (some one wearing a 12 shirt) so hahahahahahahaha big dummy me not following the ONE TRUE SPORT. I learned this morning while standing in line for a tea, that the person behind me played a game where they had to drink a 'jello shot' for every point the SH scored. This sounds very unhealthy. As I am going on too long already, I will just end by saying piffle on football and jello shots, whatever the hell they are.

    Love and kisses,

    your fan

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    1. It's the jello that sounds so unhealthy. Remember jello, from the 70's?
      I'm your fan too! We could hide out at 12:12 tomorrow when all the chaos is happening. (I really wanted to say "ensuing", but I don't think that's correct. "when all the chaos is ensuing."
      xo

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  5. Buffalo Wings are named after the city which is named (erroneously) after the animal. It should be Bison, New York, and Bison Wings...

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    1. I guess buffalo DO have actual wings? I'm mystified....

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  6. Well thank you for this.. it is the only explanation of football that I have ever understood. :)

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    1. Thank you! And thank you for the POW honor!

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  7. Tevo vs Teva-hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

    Exactly.

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  8. Love this!
    I would love to hear your take on some of the OlympicGames!!
    Congratulations on Post of the Week.

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  9. So glad that Hillary made this a POTW. I am late in getting here, but so in tune with your words. I used to be a big football fan decades ago, then somehow I grew up and it grew away and it is all because of what you have posted above. Thanks.

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