There is something magic about going to the games. Walking into the stadium is a spiritual experience. You walk on hollowed ground reminiscing about the epic battles of the past, and begin to ponder about the future for this game. There is a type of happiness and comradery that can only be found in a football stadium. If somebody is wearing the same color as you, or cheering for the same team as you, an instant bond is created. For the next four hours, you and that person are like long lost friends.
On the contrary, if somebody is rooting for the other team, you despise that person's very being-- no matter how similar you may be. Nothing is off limits as you begin to make fun of his premature balding, his ugly girlfriend, or even how ridiculous he looks in his overly-tight muscle shirt; but that is football. It brings out the best and worst of all of us.
Yet, there is something deeper than all of that. The feeling is indescribable when you can smell the fresh cut grass, hear the clash of helmets, see the team sprinting onto the field, and feel the sun beating on your face. These sensations bring men back to the days when they were referred to as athletes. For a few brief moments during the game, they return to the day when they too could run fast, throw far, and hit hard. Since that is no longer possible, they continue to live vicariously through the players and come out to support the team on GAME DAY.
No comments:
Post a Comment