Sunday, October 11, 2009

Bleacher Creatures

Oh, The Bleachers. The Stands. The Stadium.

Harvard. Oxford. Princeton.

ALL of the geniuses are gathered in this nexus of the universe. And they all know EVERYTHING about football. It is a shame that I came to watch the game, or I could just listen to them for hours talk about everything they know about football.

Oh, wait a minute.

I HAVE TO sit and listen to them for hours WHILE I watch the football game. How very, very pleasant.

Bleacher Creatures fall into several different Species:

*The "Grandma NoShutupus" Usually a woman in her mid- to late 60's that has seen approximately 10 minutes of Monday Night Football and one of those Sears Brett Farve commercials but considers herself an expert of the game. She comments on every play with "Go! Go!" and "Run Over There!" and "That penalty was NOT on us!"

*The ubiquitous "Played Alittlebiticus" This is usually a male, way way way way past his playing years (age 20+) that has seen some on field action (got in a game one time in the 4th quarter in his senior year when they were up by 48 points with 2 minutes to go and got a sack of a 3rd string sophomore quarterback) and is now ready to commentate his way to the hallowed halls of ESPN. You'll hear such things as: "They're in a 4-3, and they've got 3 in the box and they're bringin' 6-----Coach, you gotta run the Double Eagle Sweep Power! Run Power! Run The Nickel!"

*The hard-to-find (because they usually die of complications related to diabetes and atherosclerosis) "BigGutasaurus GonnaBoreUs" These individuals are most easily recognized by their morphology. They have a 32-inch waist, but there is a paunch of belly that has been forced to eject up and over the belt and hang down past his fly. This paunch is usually covered by some collegiately-licensed apparel. Could be a satin coaching jacket. Could be an authentic (i.e. mass-produced) jersey. And there is a hat to match. And a seat cushion. And a beer cozy. And, boy do THESE guys have the answers. I encountered one at my last game that sat right behind me and my children and loudly tooted that: "I tell you wut! It ain't the kids! This coach needs to do some better coachin'!"

*******{SIDE NOTE} It took everything I had NOT to turn around and ask him his name---The conversation would have gone something like this:

ME: "Can I ask your name?"

BIGGUTASAURUS GONNABOREUS: "Why? Whydaya need to know?"

ME: "Oh, I am just writing a book about really big Jack Asses, and I wanted to get your name spelled correctly."

SECURITY: "Ma'am, we need to go now...."

*The "Outbursticon" This is usually a well-intentioned parent that just doesn't know four very important things: (1) How to Shut Up, and (2) That his kid probably can't hear him anyway and (3) That his advice is usually useless and (4) Everyone within 20 rows is ready to kill him. Yelling, "GET 'EM DANNY!!" from 40 yards away and 15 rows up on every frickin' play is painful for everyone.

But, "WAIT!" you say! It's a free country! Freedom of speech! If ya can't take the heat, stay out of that seat! (Hey, that rhymes..) And you would be right. Very right. But this isn't about me. I am trying to make these Creatures BETTER! Yes! This is a Self-Help Blog.

Except for BigGutasaurus GonnaBoreUs. I'd like to buy him a couple of more hot dogs and hide his Lipitor.

Some species were destined for extinction.

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