I woke up this morning missing a dear friend of mine terribly. I think about this friend all of the time. When they're around but moreso when they aren’t. I miss this friend. I hang around others but that just makes me remember how much I miss my one true friend. That friend is football. And today it’s really bad.
I guess because the NBA season is over, I now know that the worst part of the year is dead ahead of me. It’s going to be 100 degrees for the next few months and the only option for entertainment I have is base…YAWWWWWWWN…ball. I don’t want to turn this into another rant about why baseball bores me to tears. Different strokes for different folks. Horses for courses. Etc. Instead, I want to write a love letter to my distant and faraway friend, football.
Dear football,
How are you? I have been trying to keep up with you but it’s hard when you are so far away. I hear little bits and pieces here and there about you. I heard your OTAs went okay. You did them in the stadium at the school where my mom teaches. She sent me excited emails that she saw you the day you showed up. She even offered to try to take her camera outside and get some pictures of you for me. She’s not that into you but she knows how dear you are to me, so that was sweet of her. I know the draft wasn’t really much of an event for you, as far as the Cowboys were concerned. I have to confess that all the coverage of the George Strait show at Dallas Cowboys stadium was bittersweet for me. I obviously did not attend the show nor do I forsee myself being able to attend a Cowboys game at the stadium. But when they talked about how big that HD screen is and how George Strait had them open up the retractable roof halfway through the show, I started thinking about how much more amazing that would have been if you were around. I get a little sentimental sometimes but I know that you are well(ish) and I will get to see you again. I just wish that it wasn’t so long until you come back.
I don’t know if you heard but I was hanging out with basketball earlier this year. I mean, I know that you know I have always been friends with basketball. And we had some fun this spring after you left. Of course, I don’t ever expect much from basketball. I mean, I am loyal and everything but I always know that basketball will frustrate me and kind of just disappear abruptly sometime in early May. So, while I enjoy our time together, I am never too surprised when it’s over. And honestly, once it is over, I am usually to the point where I needed a break from it anyways. I have told people that before and they immediately point out that you have been a far bigger disappointment to me and how could I continue to care about you so much? I don’t really know how to answer that.
Even when you kick me in the teeth and steal my wallet and take my keys and drive my car headfirst into a cement wall and then piss on the burning wreckage with a middle finger in the air (Eagles 44 - Cowboys 6), I am still sad to see you go. Even if I am disgusted with you and I tell everyone that you are a puss-filled blight on all mankind, I still want you to hang around a little while longer. It’s not like that with me and basketball. By the time basketball goes away, I think I will enjoy seeing it again next year but was glad it didn’t overstay its welcome. My friend Manny (he misses you too!) and I were talking about developing a debilitating narcotics habit which would cause us to be unconscious for most of the summer, so we didn’t miss you so bad. Then we could go to rehab and emerge healthy and happy and ready for your return. Then we decided that was probably too extreme.
I don’t have the highest expectations of you when I see you again at the tail end of summer. I feel certain that you’ve gone downhill a little. I know you have that new big house. Too bad about your other vacation home getting blown down by the storm. You really should always check out your contractor. But I guess you don’t need that lecture from me, huh? I expect that when I see you again this year, you will have put on some extra weight and look a little older than you really should look. I heard that money is tight right now for you. It’s tight for all of us. But I have faint hope that you know how to make a dollar stretch in rough times. You know that everyone’s gotta come together, especially in tough times.
And that should be a little easier since I heard that you finally had a malignant tumor removed and sent to Buffalo for testing right after you left. I was so relieved to hear that. I kept telling you that thing didn’t look right. I know that you are stubborn but…Jesus, I can’t believe it took you that long to wake up and realize that thing was dangerous.
When I was a little kid, I used to make my own countdown calendars for every beach vacation my family took. And I would cross off each date with a big fat marker and write little slogans over the dates like “Hooray!” or “Almost beach time!” or “Beach, here I come!” I was thinking the other day about making one for when you return. I still have those Cowboys plates I bought two years ago when you left after the game against the Giants. They were on clearance. I said last year that I would hang onto them until the Super Bowl but they still sit there unused. I don’t want to put undue pressure on you. But I think it would be fun if we ate off those plates this year. Either way, I miss you. Be safe and hurry back soon.
Have a KAS! I know mine will suck without you.
LYLAS,
Amandacobra
PS - My iTunes just randomly played "Patience" by Guns n Roses as I was typing this. I teared up a little.
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