Admiring glances across the Pond at men with large shoulders
Earlier this week, I had a lapse. To be honest, I don’t really know what came over me.
I was indulging in my regular trip to the BBC Sport website to check up on the latest news and views. As ever, there was much on offer, including the increasingly speedy Murray bandwagon in the build up to his battle with Nadal and Alan Shearer claiming United are reliant on Rooney and thus (as per usual) saying what everyone already knows. Enough to keep me entertained for my traditional two hours stint then.
So why then did I veer straight away towards a story that had nothing to do with any of my staple sports, nothing remotely involving the weekend’s football or indeed my beloved Leeds United’s gutsy draw at We Heart Harry Lane? Why did I bypass everything and anything and make a beeline for an article which read ‘New Orleans Saints to meet Indianapolis in Super Bowl’? Why, someone please tell me, did I click on a story that concerned a sport that for many a year I have scorned and despised, American Football?
Deep down, I know the answer. It pains me to say it but a few weeks ago I watched the NFL play-off between Arizona and Green Bay in one of the most thrilling television sporting experiences of my life. It was one of those days when you just need sport of any kind and, with nothing else on, I was convinced to tune in by a friend who said that, if I loved sport as much as claimed I did, I should give it a chance.
It didn’t disappoint. I ended up (despite extreme tiredness) bearing witness to the highest scoring play-off game in the history of the NFL. I didn’t understand a great deal of what was going on but the result was an epic hazy dream of men of all sizes, each with immensely important roles, clawing to get at the ball as if it had a million dollars stuffed safely inside. It was like a huge hulking game of chess, with the Queen (aka Quarterback) in constant danger of being toppled. I didn’t want it to end and it only came to a conclusion when Aaron Rodgers was cruelly stripped of the ball and Arizona touchdowned for victory. Checkmate.
Since then, I must confess, I have flirted with the idea of staying up for more American Football in the hope of replicating that surreal night. I have secretly considered applying for tickets for the NFL International Series game at Wembley in October and I have engaged in limited discussions with friends. I even know that the New Orleans Saints and the Indianapolis Colts have made it through to the SuperBowl, where extortionate adverts reign and popstars bare their chest.
It goes against everything I know and have ever stood for but I dare say the NFL may well just have captured my imagination and expanded my brain like some crazy hallucinogenic drug. It will never take over from the beautiful game but, for now at least, I am more than happy to indulge in the temporary feeling of ecstacy that American Football brings and which allows it to be an official member of our egg shaped balls category.
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