Super...duper?

Yesterday was the Super Bowl. I watched the first half, then turned it off, though I did check the score periodically until the end of the game. Today, I watched Good Morning Football so I could hear Nate, Peter, Kay, and Kyle give their takes on the game, and see some of the key plays I missed.

More and more I have found that my greatest pleasure in football is in the analysis of it. That probably makes a lot of folks cringe. Me too, in a way. I do remember the awe I felt watching Lynn Swann make an impossible reception of a Terry Bradshaw pass, and there's no question I can still feel that awe with Antonio Brown and Ben Roethlisberger.

The thing is, I can't forget the sight of Ryan Shazier lying on the ground unable to move his legs in Cincinnati last fall. Yes, he is back up on his legs now, with help, but I still can't forget. Nor can I forget listening to Terry Bradshaw talk with Arsenio Hall about his experience of dementia, a souvenir from his playing days. The hit on Brandin Cooks yesterday made me feel sick.

It isn't that people should take risks - life is a risk. We can't hide in our houses and cower in fear that something might happen. Heck, I could trip on a chair leg or an electrical cord at home and break an arm.

A rock formation in Arches National Park in Moab, Utah that reminds me of the Lombardi Trophy

With the Winter Olympics coming up, there are plenty of sports I watch that are dangerous, like luge and snowboarding. Two of my all-time favorite sports are horse racing and Indy Car racing, and those are also dangerous. I remember watching the Breeders Cup the day Go for Wand broke down. There were two races with breakdowns that day, and I cried my way through the races, but I didn't turn the television off.

Steve Haskin wrote an incredible blog post a couple of years ago, One Death too Many, which brought up some similar questions. He started it off by saying: There comes a breaking point in every person’s life when you ask yourself if your passion in life is worth the heartache that accompanies it.

I took this picture of Unbridled's Song the day I met him, one of my favorite racehorses

That's a choice we have to make when we love anyone or anything. After my yellow Lab Blarney died, one of my neighbors said that was why she didn't have pets. She just couldn't bear to lose them.

I understood, but if I hadn't been willing to lose Blarney, I never would have had the indescribable joy of living with her for the six-and-a-half short years of her life. I had her from the time she was eight weeks old, and remember taking her to Cape Cod for a week, looking into her eyes one night and saying, "Who are you?" And I remember the night she tangled with a  skunk, and even after several tomato juice baths she still had an intense smell. She was so upset she wanted to sleep right next to me, and I didn't have the heart to push her away. And I remember her grinning with delight as the kids in the neighborhood would step on her toes and inadvertently pull her tail and ears. She never growled, never nipped, she just loved it.

So I suppose you could say the football players are willing to take the risks of the game. And that's fair enough. But when I feel sick at so much of what I see as I watch, I wonder have I reached the point where the sickness outweighs the awe.

Whether it's football, horse racing, or Indy Car, I study the players/horses/jockeys/drivers, I know the owners, I know the teams and trainers, the pit crews and coaches, and I love weighing the possibilities and strategies and then seeing how it all plays out.

I don't pretend to have any answers, for myself or anyone else. What I do know, is that, like Steve, I need to ask the questions.

Take care,

Doc

Blarney, with my parents, many years ago - my mother loved Blarney so much she let her on the porch furniture!