I Love Football, by Tom Dinard

I love football. I can’t wait until Sunday, the best day of the week because of all the football games. I’ll wake up early and not even shower because there’s too much football to watch. I’ll put on my half-Mark Sanchez, half-Drew Brees football jersey (Sanchez is No. 6 and Brees is No. 9 so I’m 69) and get my eight flatscreens fired up for the pregame.  This week I’m having my friends over like I do every Sunday, because they all love football, too, and I’ve got more flatscreens than they do, and the sports bar in town gets too crowded and I’ve got 3,980 square feet and a Great Room with a kickass fireplace.

The first thing I do after I turn on the flatscreens is order three eighteen-inch meat-lover’s pizzas and five orders of hot wings early enough so that the place will deliver the stuff right before kickoff of the first football games at 1 p.m. Eastern Time. I’ve already got four veggie platters and two huge bags of chips from Costco, so if guys come over before the football starts, they can snack on that stuff before the hot food arrives.

My boy Bobby is a Dolphins fan and he smokes pot, so he’ll be wearing his Ricky Williams football jersey. My buddy Nellie is a football-crazy member of Raider Nation, so he paints his body and face silver and black and wears his throwback Jack Tatum jersey and spiked boots. My best friend Jay is from New Jersey, so he wears the autographed Eli Manning helmet he bought on some football memorabilia auction site after the Giants beat the Patriots in the Super Bowl.

There’s nothing quite like turning the volume on the TV up full-blast and listening to all the great commentators talk football. My favorite football analysts are Jimmy Johnson, Dan Marino, Shannon Sharpe, Sterling Sharpe, Boomer Esiason, Tom Jackson, Chris Berman, Cris Collinsworth, Trent Dilfer, Mark Schlereth, Howie Long, Phil Simms, Dan Dierdorf, Tony Dungy, Herman Edwards, Ron Jaworski, Mike Ditka, Cris Carter, Mike Tirico, Jon Gruden, Steve Young, Al Michaels, Daryl Johnston, Kenny Albert, Ed Werder, Chris Mortensen, John Clayton, Sal Paolantonio, Keyshawn Johnson, Terry Bradshaw, Andrea Kremer, Lesley Visser, Ron Pitts, Mike Patrick, John Lynch, Tim Hasselbeck and Elisabeth Hasselbeck. It would be awesome if they all sat together at one huge table in my living room and screamed at each other about football all day long.

They don’t pretend to be all smart about immigration or religion or health care or abortion because they’re paid to be smart about football, and since most of them played football, they really know what they’re talking about. I like the way they preface a lot of their commentary with conversational phrases such as, “Like I said before,” and “I’ll tell you what,” and “Again,” and “Here’s the deal,” because that’s the way football people talk when they’re talking football. It makes football fans comfortable to hear that stuff. Football fans are real people.

Now I’m not gay by any means, but I really get into the physical nature of football, too. Football players are absolutely physical specimens — 110 percent. When I watch linebackers patrolling the football field, it’s like seeing lions stalk their prey in the Serengeti on Animal Planet. Not only are they ruthless and quick to the kill when seeking out that football, but they’re really buffed out in their upper bodies and at the same time unbelievably limber down below. It’s impressive to watch them fly up and down the field in between those hash marks, close in on the football and blow up the running backs to cause fumbles or make game-saving tackles.

And don’t get me wrong: I love it when they jack up the volume of helmets hitting helmets and pads crunching pads, and I like yelling, “Ball!” when a running back fumbles the football, because that’s what coaches tell you to yell. Plus, it’s cool to remember your high school football days while you’re watching the superhuman man-children of the National Football League on Sundays.

Like I said, I love football. I love fuckin’ football!