One thing has always bothered me about people who smoke. With other addictions, be it alcohol, sex, or sugar-free gummy worms, there is a tangible benefit. With smoking, the only benefit is a chemical reaction in the brain.
I have an addiction, and like smoking there is no real benefit. And like smoking, I know that at the end of the day my addiction is going to lead me to a miserable ending.
My addiction is College Football. And I need help.
I know, beyond any shard of doubt, that I will be upset in January. Like smoking, I know the end is going to be real, real bad.
But I can’t help but put that filtered poison in my body, every Saturday. And Thursday, Friday and every other day that the NCAA has co-opted.
Somehow, and this scares me about the power of my brain, I am able to suspend disbelief from September-December. I am able to ignore the future pain and anguish I am going to put myself through by forcing myself to witness another round of BCS B.S.
I know that no matter how well Penn State does this year, and I believe they have as good a chance as any team in the country at going undefeated this year, there will be no happy ending.
Without a playoff, I true, Division I-AA style playoff, I will go through the same heartache this January as I did last year, and they year before that, and the year before that…
The problem is, I still watch the damn games. Viewer-ship is up. People are tuning in, and I am adding to that problem. As long as people are filling stadiums, and turning on ESPN for 18 hours every Saturday (guilty), nothing is going to change.
And that is why I have a problem. I hate the thing I love. I hate what it is going to do to me, but I still shoot it into my veins, every Saturday, religiously.
I feel for you Two-Pack-a-Day guy.