Saturday. Sofa. Coffee.
It is a September Saturday, so part of my plan for the day is football. Today I will be watching on television. Even a remote viewing day like today requires certain things from me. An early check-in on ESPN Gameday (looks cold in Fargo this morning). A final review of the schedule of other televised games of the day that may be beneficial for scouting. Assuring that all games are set to record, including the Bama game in the event I suffer injury and need to watch later. A run to the store for appropriate snackeration. Choosing the ever important gameday shirt. (Going with the crimson polo with white and black horizontal stripes, circa 2009) A last minute searching of the soul to finally determine whether I should go to Tuscaloosa anyway and buy a ticket on the street. I do have a life, so I review my Saturday list of things to do, setting priorities to determine which items must be done and which can be postponed if my game attention requires more than I anticipated. My preference is to watch remote games alone. I don't like conversation while the clock is running.
A couple of Saturdays every year I enjoy watching in person. Needless to say that requires a different, perhaps even more critical routine, considering the heightened responsibilities of a stadium fan. Timing and logistics become even more important, but the basic elements remain. Preparation, food, apparel, contingency preparation, and ultimately execution. And focus. Always focus.
I love being a fan. It is a great diversion from real life. It is on my thankfulness challenge list.
On the other hand, I won't play a down of football today or ever. I have not suited up for a single practice this year (or any year for that matter). I have some decent skills as a fan, if I do say so myself. But if Coach Saban called my name to get into the game, or even practice, it would be laughable at best, and more likely result in a tragic early end to my life, as well as a setback to the beauty of the game in general.
It is tempting to live my life as a fan. It sounds good. Encouragement is a wonderful thing.
But someone has to coach. Someone has to practice and play.
There are choices that must be made by individuals, some far in advance, some in a split second, that will determine the success or failure of the effort of everyone involved. There are hundreds, thousands of hours of practice, sacrifice and preparation which have nothing to do with outward appearances, with snackeration or gameday apparel. That preparation is necessary to maximize the chances for success. It provides a wealth of knowledge based on history, observation and study that the fans will never know, and most would not comprehend, because we have not invested the time and life required. But even then, success is not guaranteed in the moments of choice.
It is a lonely place, that moment where the critical choice is made. Some moments come after time for study and consultation. Which offense and defenses to run, which players to recruit then ultimately play. But when gameday comes the choices are different. What plays to run and when? Whether to go for it on fourth down or kick a field goal? Whether to throw the ball or eat it? Or break on the ball for a pick or play it safe? These moments of choice come with relentless speed and frequency without time for or benefit of endless video slow motion replay or the benefit of the opinions of experts perched in recliners all across America. These moments of choice are unforgiving, especially with thousand watching, the results being recorded for all of history.
It is tempting to avoid the moments of choice. Play it safe. Play to the fans. Do what everyone expects even when preparation suggests taking a chance or doing something different could yield the best results. If you see T. J. Yeldon running your way slow up a little bit and avoid those thundering thigh pads. No one will notice. Punt.
Fans don't participate in the moments of choice. We suffer no consequences for what we do. We can indulge in fantasies of facts that do not exist, of a mythical universe created by our own desires and allegiance and prejudice for our team. Our wisdom comes on Monday. We can be ridiculous and suffer no consequences. In fact, the more ridiculous we are, the more attention we get.
But because we haven't done what it takes to get there, fans never truly play the game. The results would be laughable at best, and tragic at worst.
But someone has to practice and play. A stadium full of fans will never get it done.
And no, I'm not just talking about football.
But when I do talk about football . . . RTR.
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