Death of a season

Dearly beloved, we gather this weekend to commemorate Super Bowl Sunday.  But what we are really doing is saying goodbye, marking the sad but not unexpected death of another football season.  Gone too soon, just like all the others before it.

Oh sure, there's the UFL.  Arena league.  But that's like trying to replace the loss of Aunt Rita by sitting and listening to Uncle Randy drone on and on for two hours about the weather, Ronald Reagan, and being at the urinal next to Roy Clark "that time we went to Branson."  ("I looked over at him and said, 'I'm a pickin.'   'Cept he thought I said peekin'.  We didn't get to stay for the rest of the show.")

So as much of America gathers this weekend putting on brave faces feigning joy and laughter, please remember this is a funeral.  The 2024-2025 NFL and college football seasons.  Gone.  At the senseless age of a hundred and sixty-nine.... days.

That's right, in the time it takes to impregnate a woman (not counting courting her, dating, the inevitable break-up-and-get-back-together, etc.) and see that pregnancy reach minimum viability, football as we know it has been taken from us.

Oh, sure we'll eat -- Mrs. B has planned a menu of buffalo wings and multiple dips.  Probably gorge ourselves.  That's how we drown our pain.  It's a cry for help.

And yes, we will cheer when our team scores a touchdown; or any time they show Taylor Swift.  Where do you think the term "celebration of life" came from?  That's right.  Football.  You're welcome.

And if you're not a fan, let me speak to you if I may for a moment.  Because I know it can be hard to know what to say to someone who has suffered a tremendous, grave loss.

First, let's start by going over what not to say:  

"Hey, March Madness will be here soon.  It'll be ok."  This is well-intentioned, but unhelpful.  March Madness is the three-week bender you go on after your wife leaves you.  Sure you feel better for a little while.  But when it's over, she's still gone, you're out of alcohol, and you beat yourself up asking, "What was I thinking picking UC-Irvine to make the Final Four!?!?"

Then there's the always popular, "It was a beautiful season."  Yes, but what will I do next weekend?  And the next?  And the next?

Last, and most annoying, "You know, there's more to life than football."

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Get out!  Get out of my house!  Now!  Go on!

More to life than football.  What do you think I am, some uber-energetic self-starter with three thriving businesses, my own social media platform, and access to the health and financial records of every citizen of the United States of America???

Instead of these tired, cliched phrases, maybe try something consoling like, "You've got to be the strongest person I know."  Or "Hey, I will completely understand if you go into your annual off-seasonal depression now and will not expect you to be productive or want to be around other people until for at least six weeks."

Or maybe bring up a funny, shared memory of the dearly departed.  "Remember back in week one.  The season was so young.  So naive.  We actually thought the Cowboys had a chance to make the playoffs."

So on Sunday, while you're listening to Uncle Randy complain about his gout and realizing your cheese ball will never measure up to Aunt Rita's, God rest her soul, please take a moment to remember those of us suffering.\]

Yes, we go through this every year.  And no--it never gets any easier.

Because while you see Commissioner Goodell awarding the Lombardi Trophy, I see him administering last rites.

Here lies the 2024-2025 football season.  You will be missed.  

OK, maybe not by Giants fans.