This week Clark Hunt sent your Arrowhead Adventurer a letter from the Kansas City Chiefs home office. He promised to do all he could to ensure that I could give him a big part of what discretionary income a working schmo like me can accumulate in 360 days. I hope he and the players union can reach an agreement, God bless ‘em.
Clark, if you and the rest of the owners decide locking out your bread and butter (the players and I) in 2011 is the thing to do, well the rest of the NFL fans and I will get along as best we can. We are an industrious bunch, we always seem to get by.
It will be tough, but one Sunday in October instead of waking up at 6am for a three hour drive to the stadium in the rain, I’ll mosey out on the porch in my comfy robe, grab the paper, fry up some pancakes and brew some fresh coffee, then crawl back into bed with my gal and feast until I fall back into that half awake, half asleep dimension that makes Sunday mornings worth living for
. A couple of weeks later in November, I’ll skip that 7am misty drive to fight a 45 inch muskie until we both collapse from exhaustion in the bottom of my muskie boat. We will both agree it was a draw and that beautiful fish will slowly regain its composure and hurry off to relay a tale of alien abduction that I’m sure they, like us Ozark Mountain folk will relay at family gatherings.
But it doesn’t end there, I’m not the only one suffering!
A guy in Washington D.C. will cancel the season tickets he inherited from his father, and send the money to the Japanese earthquake relief efforts. With nothing else to do, he will take his kids to the Smithsonian and remember what it was like when his dad took him during that season so long ago when football was stolen from us and remember the joy of seeing the mysteries of the world . It will be a damn shame.
Some loser in Denver won’t know what to do when he sits down with a twelve pack and a Redzone subscription for a beer hazed ten hours of non stop touchdowns. He will wind up wasting the day hiking in the breathtakingly beautiful Rocky Mountains with his wife who can’t remember when they spent a Sunday together alone. He will make do without the addiction to football that the NFL owners and players are betting we won’t be able to stop shooting in our veins.
A guy in Arizona will realize when his Cardinals sit out the season that, well hell, he will just sit out football on a more permanent basis and take up bowling. He will find the extra two grand per season he has been flushing down the NFL toilet the last ten years would have been mighty handy to have come retirement and get a little sick to his stomach. Hell more than a little, more like a good old fashioned Sunday morning after a Saturday night projectile vomit.
And a surprising thing will happen. That old world that won’t be able to spin without NFL games, well that world will keep spinning. It won’t even slow down. Will the NFL addicts come back in 2012 eager to give the owners and players their hard earned cash to see their teams collapse in the post season? Only time will tell.