I hate football. I’d like to boycott the NFL, but Stephen watches football religiously, so in order to avoid it completely, I’d have to get up off the couch. And the only thing I hate more than traumatic brain injury is getting up off the couch.
So I try to pay as little attention as possible when football is on, but two things keep me from completely tuning it out. One is that ninety percent of the announcing sounds like it could work equally well as the commentary track on a gay porn film. Someone’s always penetrating a hole or handling his balls or pounding a tight end. It’s very distracting to those of us with the maturity level of a thirteen-year-old boy.
The other is the ridiculous specificity of the statistics they spout off. Oh, this is only the third time Aaron Rodgers has thrown over 100 yards in the first half of a home game against the Vikings while the temperature was under 60 degrees, you say? FASCINATING. TO NO ONE.
Here are some football stats I’d actually like to know (and don’t tell me to Google it. I want to hear them come out of Al Michaels’ mouth):
The number of people who have been injured while showboating.
I love showboating, because funny dancing and offensive gestures are much more interesting than football. But sometimes all that chest-bumping and helmet-slapping and dick-wagging can get pretty violent. How many players have sustained a twisted ankle from doing the Electric Slide or pinched a nerve while kissing his guns? And do they still give the thumbs-up while being carried off the field with a hula injury? (By the way, my showboating move would be performing a hula that tells the story of how awesome I am. My personal ukulele player would travel with me to games, obviously.)
Gatorade showers gone wrong.
I know about The Play, but if Stanford’s players had already dumped Gatorade on the coach when Cal stole the win, then that moment was surely overshadowed by the fact that several members of their marching band died on the field that day.
Has any coach been affected by premature exuberation, showered with yellow liquid only to suffer an upset in the last seconds of the game? Because that would be awesome.
How many people have shot their televisions while watching that annoying fucking Fox Sports robot?
I’m not some gun nut, but it’s not murder if you’re shooting a robot. Or a television. What I’m saying is that I really hate that robot.
How much does Pam Oliver get paid?
Because it’s obviously not enough to afford a decent wig.
How much better would Sex and the City 2 have been if they’d replaced Carrie Bradshaw with Terry Bradshaw?
Just kidding, I already know that one. A LOT BETTER.
What could I have accomplished today if I hadn’t spent it Photoshopping Sketchbook Expressing Terry Bradshaw’s face into a Sex and the City 2 poster?
Wait, no. I don’t want to know that one. No one tell me.
gif via bleacher report