It’s more than a matter of life or death ― it’s the playoffs

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It’s more than a matter of life or death ― it’s the playoffs

For a guy, watching sports on TV is great. Watching the playoffs for his favorite sports, however, is heaven. Well, almost.
Add beer, pizza and a fully charged remote control with an extra battery pack within arm’s reach, and you have heaven as it is defined in Guys World.
Guys who watch the playoffs are a unique breed. Let’s say, for example, Joe is about to watch Mike Vanderjagt of the Indianapolis Colts (since we’re in the midst of National Football League playoffs now) attempt to kick the winning field goal in the fourth quarter with 11 seconds left on the clock, and 11 seconds that could end the Kansas City Chiefs’ (Joe’s favorite team) journey to the Super Bowl.
Right now, in Joe’s little universe, there is no physical distance between him and the tube. His only concern is whether the wind will be a factor, or if Vanderjagt, one of the best kickers in the NFL, will get a cramp in his kicking leg. Silently, Joe is praying that Vanderjagt pulls a muscle in his wind-up. Joe is not worrying about Christmas credit card bills and all of life’s other nuisances. Not now.
Enter Joe’s wife, Linda. Linda wants to know what Joe thinks of her new perm. Linda will most likely receive a grunt. And that’s if she is lucky.
This is not because Joe does not love Linda. It’s not because he does not care. And it’s definitely not because he has lived with her for more than 20 years. It’s because he is watching the playoffs!
He just hates to be interrupted at the moment that will decide if his beloved Chiefs will make it to the Super Bowl, an event he has been preparing for even before he got married to her. Give the guy a break! We are talking about years of unwavering true loyalty that Saddam Hussein could only dream of.
Joe will watch with despair as the football floats through the air, his arms cocked behind his head, ready to rip his hair out if it is good.
It’s the most vulnerable moment of his life. He can look upon a dead body without flinching, but this? Not a chance.
Imagine that the kick is good and the Chiefs have lost. It’s Armageddon. For Joe, it’s like a punch in the groin. He’ll shrink up and immediately assume the fetal position on the sofa. He’ll retreat to his inner cave and ponder what went wrong. What he has done wrong. His life is in shambles. At least temporarily.
Guys and their favorite sports teams are like a band of brothers. They stick together through thick and thin. When Joe watches his team, “my man,” on the tube, the floodgates of emotions are wide open. The agony, the triumph, the sheer joy and the pain are thrown together, mixed up and spat out during a game.
Why do you think so many guys scream at the top of their lungs? It’s because they are part of the team. And so are the legions of other guys who watch the playoffs on TV.
The emotional trauma will remain for years, if not the rest of their lives. I am sure that Red Sox fans will talk forever about the call by Grady Little in the seventh game of last year’s American League championship series against the New York Yankees, when he decided not to pull Pedro Martinez although he had a chance to do so, and everyone else knew it was the best thing to do.
No matter where a guy lives, he’ll root for the same home team forever. And during the playoffs, he should get a break.


by Brian Lee

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