Full of football after a long four months

By By Stan Torgerson / sports columnist
Jan. 12, 2004
Would you believe it if I told you I am about footballed out. The college season started early, Aug. 30 as you may remember, and ran until Jan. 4. That's over four months. More than enough, I say.
It wasn't just the games themselves, although a 12-game season is exhausting. I can stand the Saturdays. It's all those stories in the newspapers, magazines and on television that have reduced me to the "heard enough, read enough" status.
I'm tired of articles about how this coach or that great uncle "rescued me from the depths of delinquency by convincing me that I should go out for football."
Or "my daddy and I used to play catch in the backyard and that's why I'm the great player I am today."
I have trouble accepting the fact that because a coach wins nine, 10 or 11 college football games a year he should be paid $1.5 million, give or take, for doing it.
I'm also weary of beer commercials, point spreads, accusations that Auburn turned in Alabama to the NCAA and got them put on probation even though they really hadn't done anything everyone else isn't doing, or the reason Mississippi State may be in recruiting trouble is because those mean, jealous people at Ole Miss are telling stories to keep good players from signing up with the Bulldogs.
I've seen all the cute cheerleaders being hoisted into the air by hairy-armed boy cheerleaders I care to see, listened to Rocky Top one time too many on Tennessee football broadcasts and watched Florida State fans 42 times in an afternoon wear out their arms in the Tomahawk motion while chanting what is supposed to be some kind of Indian magic that will bring wins instead of rain.
And speaking of television announcers, if those guys on the Jefferson-Pilot broadcasts use the word "great" 125 more times in the second-half addition to the 125 from the first half I may switch to "Lassie" or something equally bland to retain my sanity.
Then there are the games that my favorite newspaper in its preseason football tabloid shows as starting at 1:30 that are mysteriously switched to 11:30 a.m. or 6 p.m. and by so doing screw up my Saturday plans.
Just once I'd like to see the band's halftime performance. I'm upset about watching 200 fine musicians marching out on the field and then being forced to watch commercials and opinions by so-called experts for the next 15 minutes instead of the intricate marches and formations that are such fun to see.
The next young man with his face painted in school colors and an initialed bare chest who sticks his index finger in the air and yells, "We're number one" should have his finger twisted and then be escorted out of the stadium and made to go home and take a shower.
There can't possibly be as many All-Americans as the media proclaims in their stories and broadcasts and every running back, quarterback or wide receiver who is having a good game should not be called a Heisman candidate, particularly in August or September when not even half the schedule has been played.
Heaven forbid we continue to be cursed by female sideline reporters who don't know how to ask sports questions without first answering them their own self. "This is certainly a hard played game isn't it? How does it look to you." What's the coach or player supposed to say? "No" hardly seems appropriate.
Let's skip those interviews with coaches as they leave the field at halftime who tell you only the obvious such as "We're really going to have to find a way to stop their passing attack." Really?
When a player is hurt and they carry him off to the sideline or spend five minutes trying to get him back to his senses I wish the announcers would stop referring to him as "shaken up." The kid's hurt. What's the harm in saying so?
And, please, when the score gets 35-3, please don't tell me what the team with three points is going have to do to "get back in this ball game." You know and I know and the players know that isn't going to happen.
Finally, stop showing me allegedly great plays that occurred in a game played five years before. Who cares? As a matter of fact, if and when the Super Bowl finally comes and goes, who cares about any more football at all until next August, that is.