THE SAINTS IN SAN FRANCISCO

Watching the Saints-Niners NFL playoff game.  Love, love, love football.  But you know what my favorite moments in the televised games are?  When they bring in hot female analysts and sideline reporters, who not only provide me with something pretty to look at, but also provides me the joy of being able to laugh at the middle-aged announcers’ lame attempts at flirting with them on air.

 

 

And I actually prefer watching the games at home instead of in person.  You get better camera angles, replays, updates, stats, and its so much easier to fall asleep at halftime should the mood strike.  Not to mention the fact that at least on TV they try to entertain you during the down time between plays.  While the at-home viewers are being treated to funny beer commercials, cutaways to other games and hot sideline reporters, the fans at the game must settle for the jumbotron and actually starting a conversation with another person for their entertainment.  And that is assuming that you can even see the field from your seat.

 

 

It was my sad misfortune to have one of those crappy seats at the old Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium once.  I was surrounded by a bunch of women who apparently liked football.  It’s strange, I know, kinda like dogs and elephants being friends, but it’s possible.  And they weren’t the kind of ladies that only wear t-shirts and jeans with super-short boy haircuts.  No, these chicks were straight.  The one sitting next to me was actually pretty, so this being a football game, I offered to buy her a beer.  She hit me with the best comeback line ever.  “Should I consider this a down payment for future child support?”

Then she had to ruin everything by celebrating a relatively innocuous first quarter field goal like it just clinched the win, and then she showed an annoying amount of concern when one of the players was slow getting up.  I decided it was clear that she was molested by her father during NFL games as a child and ignored her for the rest of the game.

Nope, I’m sticking to watching football on TV.  Actually attending the games in person is for teenagers at their local high school stadium where they can unsuccessfully try to grow a mustache, unsuccessfully try to fit in and unsuccessfully try to score with chicks.

 

 

And I like to watch the game alone.  Don’t you hate it when that guy who hasn’t paid attention to the NFL in a decade comes over?  He’ll say stupid shit about how he can’t get over the fact that the Rams aren’t in the playoffs this year and will inevitably ask if Reggie White or Emmitt Smith still play football.  With this guy, I like to make lots of intricate football references until he starts getting the hint that he’s some sort of eunuch-like non-man.

The super-intense pro fanatic guy is no picnic either.  He won’t even get up to use the bathroom because he’s afraid he’ll miss a play and won’t be able to hear the announcers in there.  I can’t hear the announcers and I’m sitting right in front of the TV because he’s constantly reminiscing about high school football and using phrases like “fade hook route” and “flanker-back.”  Then at some point, he’s gotta tell you how he would have made it to the pros if not for an unfortunate knee injury in high school.  Yeah, well, I’m thinking the fact that he’s 5-foot-8 with short, stubby sausage fingers probably didn’t help either.

 

 

Damn, there are a lot of commercials during this game.  Hey, advertisers, here’s a tip for you.  Get some hot women to wrestle each other and your product will sell.  Does not matter what the product is, it could be a giraffe pooper-scooper, doesn’t matter.  You gotta remember who you’re advertising to here.  Men who watch football are either single with little to no sex life or married with little to no sex life.

Speaking of the wife, that’s another reason why I love football.  It gives us guys a legitimate reason to ignore our spouses for several hours.  It doesn’t matter what’s going on in the world.  There could be a blizzard and a zombie apocalypse happening at the same time, but she’s gonna have to fend for herself while I’m watching the game.

Okay, that’s it.  I’m putting the laptop away and focusing on the game.  My Saints apparently missed the memo where I picked them to whoop ass on the Niners.

 

 

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