I'm just really bored with putting my spin on "important" issues and I'm sure that readers are becoming more than a little weary of my persistent harping. Considering my boredom and the fact that I have wracked my brain without finding anything of consequence to write, I've decided that it is time to step out and have a little fun. I've come to the conclusion that I should write about something I enjoy, and which, for me at least, reflects life in various and sundry ways: football.
Everyone has one of "those days." Sometimes you have one of those weeks, months, years or lifetimes. Do you often find that your problems overwhelm you? Do you feel that your very existence is pointless, totally meaningless, and utterly devoid of hope? Well, just observe this year's edition of Northwestern Wildcat football and take heart, my friend.
For about the past six or seven generations, this academic powerhouse has been cranking out gridiron patsies and making Homecoming a pleasant occasion for the rest of the Big Ten Conference. In a conference packed with football powerhouses, you could always look forward to a leisurely Saturday afternoon each fall when you were afforded the opportunity to watch your alma mater mercilessly pound the overmatched Wildcats into submission. Even worse, their uniforms were the color of an extremely nasty bruise.
No more. These purple and black warriors from Evanston, Ill. have literally flipped the college football establishment upside down by toppling such perennial national championship hopefuls as Notre Dame, Michigan, and Penn State. What's more, they beat the Irish and Wolverines on the road, an impressive feat for anyone. All of this from a football program that last year appeared pointless, totally meaningless, and utterly devoid of hope. Hmm ... small time football program suddenly goes big time. I wonder if this trend could be catching?
Yet football, just like life, will suddenly yank the rug out from under you just when things seem to be in order and going your way. For instance, you find something that you can take heart in, something you can count on, something in which you can find hope amidst the vicious betrayals of day-to-day life, and then it moves to Baltimore.
Yes, the Cleveland Browns, who arguably have (had) the most loyal hometown following in the NFL, spurned the Great Lakes for the more prosperous shores of the Chesapeake Bay. Or something like that. Maybe they just figured that Cal Ripken couldn't have been wrong all 2,131 times. Ironically, though, they are moving to a city whose beloved football team, the Colts, was snatched ten years ago by the enticing metropolis of Indianapolis.
But chin up, Cleveland -- I hear that the Houston Oilers are looking for a new home. It's a perfect match, especially considering your prime location on the shore of that oilslick you call Lake Erie.
Football may put a smile on your face but it definitely will not set your world in order. About ten years ago, the Oakland Raiders determined that their fortunes would be greater in Los Angeles and took the life out of a city that had adored them for decades. However, about ten years of careful consideration and poor attendance led Raider owner Al Davis to the conclusion that Oakland was, in fact, the best place for the Silver and Black.
Which would not have been so bad for Los Angeles if the crosstown Rams had not already been hypnotized by the copious amounts of money and a new domed stadium that the city of St. Louis dangled in front of them. Not to mention the fact that all of this had to come about when one of LA's brightest personalities and greatest sports heroes, O.J. Simpson, was on trial for murder. Strange things are afoot in the City of Angels.
But in football, just as in life, there is always a brighter side. Browns fans should realize that their loss of a football team could be punishment imposed by cosmic forces for turning Don King and George Steinbrenner, two native Clevelanders, loose on the sporting world. Yet they should see the silver lining in their dark cloud: the Indians won the pennant this year after decades of crushing ineptitude.
Even hard-luck Los Angeles has reason for optimism, for the city can still profit in a small way from this mess. All that its citizens have to do is choke back the sorrow, take a deep breath, and say,"Well, while we're at it, we might as well get rid of the Clippers."