Holy spandex, Batman!! It’s time for another football season. I am so geeked for the season, I’m going to watch Mississippi take on South Carolina in a scintillating Thursday-night royal rumble. Se-xy! As long as it’s decent competition, though, I don’t care. I can’t get enough. The smell of fresh cut grass, sweat, hot dogs and contraband liquor, that’s my crack in the fall. Even the cynical-est of the cynical can’t deny its power. By the way, that award goes to a senior writer in my department. Even if he says it’s just a game, I see the twinkle in his eye while he’s editing the football-laden pages. You can’t deny the draw and drama of football.
My Auburn Tigers have gotten a lot of preseason hype, but I’m loathe to believe anything the media writes…and I’m in the media. I read it, take it for what it’s worth, and wait until the season starts so I can get a real idea of what the team looks like. And some of it, you can’t predict, which is why I love college football. A couple of bad calls, and a ball bouncing the wrong way, and that’s ball game, no matter how good your team has been predicted to be.
Did I mention I’m back writing for a newspaper? As, get this, an intern! About three years too late, but whatever. I’m kind of glad I’m back in the sports game, even if it is only for a few months. Being a sports writer puts you on the inside; the other day I interviewed a top-tier SEC coach, and an athletic director of a major university…in one day. Needless to say, guys drool over my job. Although in my experience, they are less likely to drool over female sports reporters who tread their “turf” and know more about the team than they do. Oh well. I’ll just have to find a guy who’s only a casual fan: enough interest to want to watch games with me, but not so interested that he feels threatened by my sports knowledge. A musician perhaps?