It’s late September — the middle of football and election seasons, as well as the beginning of the ever-irking lovebug season — and resentment and complaints are in no short supply.
I wish I could say this is a new trend, but it’s as old as I am, almost definitely older. The weird thing I’ve noticed is that the tensions accompanying these seasons (with the exception of those pesky bumper splats) are reaching new heights in intensity. Not to discount the ability of swarms of lovebugs to make you voice-crackingly, stutteringly angry, but lovebug irritation can’t really break a certain threshold. And as proud as I am to be a Gator, I would like to issue an unofficial apology for those gooey little bastards yet again.
On the other hands though, football and elections have always stirred the conversational pot. Seems like now, though, the pot gets stirred a bit too much, and by the time the porridge is piping, some over-informed Palin-’Nole or Barack-iCane dumps the pot over the head he who dareth oppose his argument.
What happened to open discourse? Why do we perceive and believe in a single correct answer to every question? America needs a two-week refresher course in practicality.
You can’t root for the right football team, but you can root for the team you identify with most. Even better, you can change your mind as you grow up, relocate or enter a new tax bracket.
I grew up a Florida State fan, and I loved watching them beat the Gators. Then I enrolled at the University of Florida in Gainesville. At our freshmen orientation, they made us do all those ridiculous cheers. The “Chomp”. I felt stupid. I had never been so uncomfortable in my life. Four and a half years later, I don’t give a second thought to displaying two sweaty armpits to Chomp right along to “Gator Bait.” But that’s football. What’s frowned upon is never confused for treason.
I was a disgusting little front-runner as a lad. Rooted for the Buffalo Bills. And the 49ers. And the Chicago Bulls. That explains why I hitched myself to the Bowden bandwagon (not to mention they still have just about the sickest helmets in college football). Oddly enough, though, I can’t stand the Cowboys, Red Wings or Yankees.
But when I moved, I reevaluated. I lived in Gainesville and was surrounded by the Orange and Blue, the enthusiasm and lifelong Gators fans. I went to a game, and I was hooked. I still like the ‘Noles, but none of my friends remember that. When the Gators eventually lose to FSU again, I know I’ll never hear the end of it. But that’s football, the little-engine-that-did gets in the former big dog’s face after he pulls the upset.
Unfortunately, the rules of sports begin and end there. Life has no rubber matches. You don’t get to repeat second down when you miss a mortgage payment. And the game most certainly can end on a defensive penalty.
I get too worked up about sports. I’m especially defensive about the Gators. During their lackluster season-opener against Miami (OH), I got a barrage of texts from FSU fan-friends about our newfound suckitude, and I was legitimately pissed off. Why? Partly because I’m over-enthused, but mostly I forgot that it’s just football. That’ll happen.
Oddly enough, I don’t make that same mistake during election season. Well, it’s not odd to me, because there is no correlation. There’s no parallel. The two do not intertwine or intersect. The closest parallel that can be drawn is that — taboo alert! — there’s no right choice.
You like the spunk of Tea Party movement? Good for you.
You think every Wall Street executive who took a million-dollar bonus during the recession should be thrown in the big house? Rock on.
You want Big Government to stay out of your wallet so you can start up a new BP station just off the interstate? Live the American dream, sir or ma’am.
Those are called opinions, and no matter what anyone says, believes, thinks or shouts loudest on TV, they cannot by definition be proven wrong.
This is where the line blurs. With the help of viciously partisan broadcasting, quickening Wi-Fi networks and a glut of vapid, half-assed information sources (Wikipedia), the pot of porridge has turned from tasty conversation and potential learning experience to a weapon of segregation.
You voted for Obama? Marked with a smirk, an inaudible “tsk-tsk” and a voiced “What do you think about that now?”
You supported the War on Terror? You’re no patriot now.
You backed the stimulus package? All that money and my General Motors family is still in the poor house.
The commonality among these? Each response really only says “You were wrong.” The words don’t need to be said, but they’re heard more clearly than anything else.
Afterward, conversation heads south. Voices raise. Cheeks flush. Sensibilities circle the drain. And for what? Telling someone they’re wrong doesn’t make you right, and it certainly doesn’t predict your ability to be correct in the future. The Gators looked like crap in Week One? Good luck in Week Two against Oklahoma. If I had said that, would I have the upper hand in Week Three? Sure. What happens if UF loses to the ‘Noles to close the regular season? I just ran a long, exhausting lap to realize something that should’ve been apparent at the start.
Right answers don’t exist in politics or football. Reasonable compromises do arise from time to time. And voting for someone does not mean you back everything they do.
Let’s stop recounting what might have been because, for as much as we like to think it would be better — that the recession would be long gone and we would all be back to our guaranteed holiday bonuses — we are all clueless.
We’re a big country, so we should probably start acting like one. If Fox News, MSNBC, the National Review or the New York Times told you the world was flat, would you believe any of them?
I’ll have a grain of salt with my news coverage, please.
