Ok, here is the deal.  It has come to my attention that there is not a fine line between gay and straight.  It’s more of a gray area.  I found myself in that gray area last night……  Please let me explain.

So I’m at home right.  Sitting on my couch, drinking my drink of choice, the only one with a P.H.D, and I’m watching some women’s Olympic swimming finals.  That’s straight right?  A bunch of women swimming.  That can be hot, and it’s live TV so anything can happen.  And, like normal, I found myself hoping that the “gifted” swimmer from Australia would have a Janet Jackson moment as she is jumping into the water.  But god must be deaf because her swimsuit stayed firmly, and unfortunately, in place.  As the clock neared midnight Bob Costas changed the coverage from women’s swimming over to men’s gymnastics finals, and before I knew it I was watching men jump around on the floor with pointed toes. 

I wish I could say at that point I changed the channel to watch something exploding or Chuck Norris kicking someones ass, but no.  Instead I was trying to talk as if I knew something about Pommel Horse.  “Look at the athleticism there”,  “Man, it is so hard to hold that position”… I wish I could say I didn’t say any of those things… I wish I could say that. 

Because of these types of experiences, and that one other one in college, I have come to an obvious conclusion.  Straight people can do gay things.  I’m sure that some gay people watch Lumber Jack sports (insert gay joke here) on the Outdoor Network, and I’ve been know to enjoy a episode or two of So You Think You Can Dance… and berfore you laugh at me, those chicks are hot.  Enough said. 

Awesome out (insert gay joke)

Football time has come again my friends! Training camp is underway for several NFL teams already, with the remainder of teams to follow within the week, College players will report to practice August 1st, and I have a semi right now.

I am by no means an athlete. My body broke down on me before my freshman year in high school. I was a slow little guy and didn’t like running or being hit by a baseball or a guy twice my size. I never had school spirit and most of the football players I knew were douche bags who deserve the lawn care jobs they probably have now. All that being said, nothing can wash out the love I have for this game. I wish I could go back in time and dedicate myself to it and conquer my fear of that time. I probably wouldn’t have been any good, but it would have given me more of a chance to learn about the greatest game on earth.

The recipe for great football is this: 1 part raw physical force, 1 part speed, 12 parts chess match. It is a game of how fast can you think and how fast can you think when a line backer is about to readjust your spine. Yeah sure, the front line is big man on big man, seeing who kicks ass, but what ya going to do when the guard pulls and becomes the lead blocker? Were you too quick in pursuing the runner and missed the reverse? Did they buy the play action? If you are under the impression that Football is a slow sport or just a mess of rage, then you really have no idea what you are talking about. You haven’t watched the game.

Don’t misunderstand, I love many sports. College Basketball is a ton of fun (Bruce Pearl is the man), Hockey is exciting and fast, and Baseball lets me drink a beer and relax while still being competitive. Hell, every spring I’m glued to womens college softball. I don’t like soccer very much. It looks like it takes a lot of physical ability to play, but I’m American and straight, so nuff said on that. Football holds the biggest part of my heart and all the rest just feels like filler for the next touchdown.

I have lived in Tennessee all of my life, I travel and love to visit other places, but Tennessee is home to me. I grew up in a town called cookeville and at the time of my youth, we never had a professional sports anything. I grew up with the greatest love in my heart for the Tennessee Volunteers. They were the pride of our state (unless you live in Memphis, but they might as well be part of Arkansas), they still are as far as I’m concerned. I did not attend the university as my major directed me to a different me to a different school, but loving the vols has little to do with where you went to school and more to do with the magic of the power T. If football is my number one, then college football is my 1A.

When we finally got our first professional football organization in the state, the Titans, it was a difficult time for me. The first few years, they were still the oilers and we didn’t know exactly where they were going to play. I didn’t care about the professional teams that much. I always cheered for the team that had the most Vols on it. When Peyton Manning came out of College and went the Indianapolis Colts, I attached myself to them. It tugged at my heart to go against the state, but was I really? I mean Peyton was the Vol. My dream pro team is comprised of nothing but former Vols players.

I went to Indianapolis with my father to watch the Titans and Colts play when they were placed in the same division. It was at this point that I witnessed the most horrific thing I had ever seen. The Colts fans were booing Peyton Manning! I thought how dare those cock sucking, dome playing, move a team in the middle of the night, unappreciative bastards? It didn’t make sense to me. Didn’t they know how lucky they were? They had Peyton Manning! I never forgave the poor people of Indianapolis after that. I had to go home and learn the distinction between pro ball and college ball and sort all that out for myself. I learned that I can always be happy for any Vol that wins a championship, but fuck the rest of their team. I have my own team, a home team, I have the Tennessee Titans.

There is not another sport in the world that can make me feel as passionately as I do about these two teams now. I don’t think I could feel as strongly if I were playing. I live and die with every play. I get nauseated when they lose. My life can be in the crapper, but if my team is winning it feels like everything will be ok. I become superstitious. I have to stand in a different spot if something bad happens and maintain that spot if good things are happening. I talk to the players through the tv. I coach them from the sidelines. I am a part of this game. I am planning a wedding around the game right now as we speak. We are not allowed to get married on game day. My future wife knows this, she is the one who planned for this. I am marrying her because she gets me!

The news stories are coming with more frequency now. Soon the games will begin. Soon I will disappear on the weekends. I will meet up with my father and watch every game I can with him. I will not go to parties to watch the game or I will be tempted to fight people. I will watch them in private with the one man who taught me to love the game as I do. Hell, where do you think I learned to feel this way? My dad taught me! It is something that is passed on from generation to generation and I cannot wait to take my children to their first game.

In parting, let me say this: Do not harass me about my team. I will not do it to you. I will be respectful because I know what it is to be so connected with a sport that it tears you up inside. I am asking please. I am asking nicely. Good luck to your team. I mean that. I hope they beat everyone except my team. That seems fair, right? Here’s to the Vols winning the national championship this year! Here’s to the Titans winning the Super bowl! Go get em guys, listen to what I tell you through the tv or from the stands and you will do just fine. I’m right here with you. make me proud, you always do.

ahoy,

the captain