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What a silly sport
I was forced to throw a Superbowl party at my place, since none of my friends had the sense to buy their own big screen TVs, and, out of politeness, was required to sit through the whole game. It's sweet, I naively thought, that American football games are among the shortest of all professional sports, lasting only 60 minutes of clock-time. Not much to sit through, right? Then I find out that the clock keeps counting down even when they're not playing, though only some times (I assume, whenever the timekeeper feels like making it). That's pretty retarded, but whatever, the game's over sooner, right?
So they kick the ball or scrimmage it or whatever, and then slap each other around a little, and, 5 seconds later, they all stop. Then they show us a commercial or six. When we come back, we find that both sides have changed THEIR ENTIRE TEAMS. WTF? Didn't you just have 11 players on the field? What're they doing now? Who're these new guys? Why's the guy, who was just like the most important guy on the field, sitting on the sidelines in his underwear?? Apparently, these new guys only play when the ball is in a certain part of the field and when Saturn and Mars are aligned with the azimuthal projection of the shadow of the moon on Jupiter, or something. It's OK, though, 5 seconds later, they're all off, and we're watching more commercials while what would be team number 6 in any other sport strap on their nut-guards and take the field. I think one of them forgot about the changeover, though, since once of the opposing team's 12 coaches throws a little handkerchief onto the field. WTF is up with that, anyway? Don't they have like $2000 worth of electronics strapped to their head? Why do they need those coloured flags? Why can't they tell one of the 200 people on their bench to tap one of the 17 referees on the shoulder?
Then, when the game does assume some semblance of a coherent flow, it begins to look like a game of ping pong, one in which the ball takes about 10 minutes to cross the net. One team fumbles around for 3 unsuccesfull attempts to move their fat asses a few feet forward, and then kick it up the field. Then the other team does exactly the same thing
Is there no originality in this game? Is it a rule that you need to try and run with the ball on the first two tries, throw it on the third, and kick it on the fourth? When you do finally manage to inch it over the goal line, is the "two point conversion" option just there for show, or must some unrevealed prophecy be fulfilled before a team thinks about attempting it?
Three hours later, the 60 minute game ends. Actually, it was more like 2 hours, 59 minutes, and 12 seconds later, because I don't think anybody bothered to keep the clock going after the winning team's army of benchwarmers decided to dump a bucket of ice onto a spot two feet away from their head coach. I was hoping for one climactic moment of triumph for the MVP dude (what did he do in the game, anyway, other than throw one important pass) to break down in tears or something, but there wasn't one. I guess you don't need a whistle or buzzer or anything when you can just get all the cameramen to run onto the field and let the players know that they can stop playing.
What's up with all that protective gear, anyway? Rugby players get along fine without it, and all they give up is a few square inches of advertising real estate.
Finally, what is the field even made of? I thought it was fake grass, but then I saw grass stains on their uniforms.
So they kick the ball or scrimmage it or whatever, and then slap each other around a little, and, 5 seconds later, they all stop. Then they show us a commercial or six. When we come back, we find that both sides have changed THEIR ENTIRE TEAMS. WTF? Didn't you just have 11 players on the field? What're they doing now? Who're these new guys? Why's the guy, who was just like the most important guy on the field, sitting on the sidelines in his underwear?? Apparently, these new guys only play when the ball is in a certain part of the field and when Saturn and Mars are aligned with the azimuthal projection of the shadow of the moon on Jupiter, or something. It's OK, though, 5 seconds later, they're all off, and we're watching more commercials while what would be team number 6 in any other sport strap on their nut-guards and take the field. I think one of them forgot about the changeover, though, since once of the opposing team's 12 coaches throws a little handkerchief onto the field. WTF is up with that, anyway? Don't they have like $2000 worth of electronics strapped to their head? Why do they need those coloured flags? Why can't they tell one of the 200 people on their bench to tap one of the 17 referees on the shoulder?Then, when the game does assume some semblance of a coherent flow, it begins to look like a game of ping pong, one in which the ball takes about 10 minutes to cross the net. One team fumbles around for 3 unsuccesfull attempts to move their fat asses a few feet forward, and then kick it up the field. Then the other team does exactly the same thing
Is there no originality in this game? Is it a rule that you need to try and run with the ball on the first two tries, throw it on the third, and kick it on the fourth? When you do finally manage to inch it over the goal line, is the "two point conversion" option just there for show, or must some unrevealed prophecy be fulfilled before a team thinks about attempting it?Three hours later, the 60 minute game ends. Actually, it was more like 2 hours, 59 minutes, and 12 seconds later, because I don't think anybody bothered to keep the clock going after the winning team's army of benchwarmers decided to dump a bucket of ice onto a spot two feet away from their head coach. I was hoping for one climactic moment of triumph for the MVP dude (what did he do in the game, anyway, other than throw one important pass) to break down in tears or something, but there wasn't one. I guess you don't need a whistle or buzzer or anything when you can just get all the cameramen to run onto the field and let the players know that they can stop playing.
What's up with all that protective gear, anyway? Rugby players get along fine without it, and all they give up is a few square inches of advertising real estate.
Finally, what is the field even made of? I thought it was fake grass, but then I saw grass stains on their uniforms.
Stupid americans and their phony sports...
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