I love this time of year. The air is over flowing with anticipation, with possibility. It's time to go over what worked last year and puzzle over what will make this year even better. It's time to learn new faces and practice pronouncing new names. It's time to put on favorite shirts and fly the flag high. It's time to get the new year started. It's time for football. (What'd you think I was talking about? School? Don't make me come over there.)
When I say football, mind you, I mean it in more than one sense. I find myself becoming one of that unique breed of American guys who is hopelessly devoted to football and, well, football (which I'll call soccer from here on out). Even as work finds me in a busy patch, I can't help but make the time to check out training camp news coming from of College Park and Owings Mills, Maryland. Likewise, I'm neck deep in the start of the soccer seasons in Manchester, England and Florence, Italy. For years, I've loved my Maryland Terrapins and Baltimore Ravens. I grew up on the NFL, even though I've never played a minute of organized football. In recent years, I've turned my attention to European soccer leagues, starting with Manchester United two seasons ago and now Fiorentina. I love both games equally and that, it seems, puts me in the minority.
A while back I wrote a piece punting the UEFA Champions League, trying to generate a little excitement and encourage non-soccer fans to give it a watch. I'll grant that this was a far cry from my best writing, but I was shocked at the vitriolic comments the post generated. Most of the fire wasn't aimed at me, as the comments descended into a mad which-football-is-better shouting match. I couldn't get over how juvenile people became, bashing the "opposite" sport and its fans. Since when are sports mutually exclusive? Just because I'm a runner doesn't mean I have to hate car racing, and just because I've started watching soccer doesn't mean I have to start hating football. Life is full of interesting contradictions; that's what makes it fun.
Football is packed with seeming opposites, and that's what I love most. It is a sport of sublime speed and bone crunching power. In one moment, a linebacker might hit a quarterback so hard it rattles the teeth of the guy sitting fourth row in the upper deck. While just a few downs later, using finesse that would make Baryshnikov weep, a wide receiver may keep the barest tips of his toes inbound. The great teams strike a perfect balance between the beautiful hope of a 50-yard pass and the brute force of a spitting, cursing, crushing defensive line. When a football game is firing on all cylinders, it makes for four hours I am glad to give up.
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