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Guilty. When I have tons of more important things to do, but was reading a MySpace survey posted by a girl I hardly even know, whom I’ve seen probably once in my entire life and doesn’t live anywhere near here. I saw a question that asked: “What’s your favorite season?” to which my cyber friend responded: “Football season.”
If she only knew what living with no seasons is like, I thought. In most countries (the only exception I’m aware of is the United States) real fútbol goes on all year, and the summer brings a delightful feast of big-time and international tournaments. It’s a cycle almost as perfect and endless as the circle of life. Soccer fans, like Rio Grande Valley natives, only know hot and hotter.
But then I realized I might have been hiding too long behind my “I’m Mexican, I don’t do American football” excuse. I saw everyone getting excited for the football season that started about a month ago and notice people wearing football jerseys every day. I also see people picking on Cowboys fans for some reason and friends taking sides between Longhorns and Aggies.
I also remember when my own brother threw a barbecue for the Super Bowl a few months ago (and that’s because he’s obviously Mexican too). I felt like an outsider and the two things I really enjoyed were the ribs and sausage.
Don’t get me wrong, I believe in people’s freedom to patronize the sport they like the most, or follow more than one if that’s their choice, and I don’t think the sport we pick determines who we are or makes us more or less part of a group.
You may be right; I think I’m missing out. I’ve had enough of discriminating against a sport I know very little about, but that everyone seems to love. And maybe getting more familiar with it would also help me get more familiar with the community I live in. After all, every sport is beautiful and I’m sure football is not the exception.
So I’m going to try to start watching American football little by little and take it step by step with the firm hope that Pele or Maradona won’t come after me in my sleep for “betraying” the game I’ve religiously followed my entire life. I’m even a little afraid that Landon Donovan, the person I hate the most in the world according to my MySpace surveys, will be disappointed. But I’m sure he’ll understand.
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