Never On Sunday

Looking for distractions from the news that continues to bear down on all of us, I have sat in front of the television looking for the solace that used to be football. Spectator sports have been a way for me to ignore the stink and furor that surrounds us all. In the past. I waited for the weekend to be entertained by the gladiatorial displays of my favorite teams.
This year, there won't be bowl games. There won't be a Super Bowl. Not for me, anyway. Sure, I'll tune in to watch the commercials because it is part of the American firmament I suspect that I could fall under government surveillance if I didn't.
And yet, it seems as though ignoring the National Football League would be falling in line with the forces of the Evil Empire. Darth Trump would like to think that fewer and fewer Americans are watching on Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays because they are fed up with the anti-flag, anti-veteran protests that have ruined the game. I disagree. I don't think it has much to do with the demonstrations taking place before the game. I think it has everything to do with the lack of entertaining games may have had something to do with my lack of interest. To be clear: I was tuning in for the past several weeks just to show the dark side that I wasn't put off by sitting, standing or kneeling. I was there to watch football.
Then came all the injuries. No Arron Rodgers. No J.J. Watt. No Andrew Luck. The stars were sitting not because they didn't want to pledge allegiance to the flag but because of broken bones and torn ligaments. Then there was rookie Houston quarterback Deshaun Watson who donated his first ever game check to hurricane relief in the city for which he played, until he had his knee torn up to put him and his spectacular play on the shelf for the rest of the season.
And then there's the Denver Broncos, who started the year with hopes of battling for first place in what many considered to be the toughest division in football. Maybe there's something about too much orange, what with the tangerine in the White House, but this has been a spectacularly forgettable season in the Mile High City. Each peek into what's happening with the team on any given weekend has brought me nothing but grief.
As a fan. As someone who appreciates some of the finer points of the game. They aren't there. Not now. I find myself ignoring what goes on in spite of myself and all those years of conditioning. Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe I should take a page from the Cubs fan book and start planning for next year. That's where hope lives.