Okay, I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking it too. I’ll say it… “every day.”

Well, if you’re over 35 you were thinking that. If you’re under 35 you’re scratching your head. Go grab a sandwich. When you get back I’ll stop nostalgizing (new word). I’m 45 and anytime and every time I say the phrase, “taking car of business,” I hear that classic song by “BTO.”

Anywho, it’s nearly Christmas, I mean the start of football season and I’m tickled pin… uhhhhh, tickled a masculine dark blue. And I feel obligated to write this particular journal to bridge the gap from we the football lovers to you the, “Look at him… what a lump… just lying there all day watching men in colorful uniforms run into each other over and over-ers.”

This journal is an open letter to all women who are non-football fans. (Gay men who do not like football can stop reading. You’re probably dating another gay man who is
also not interested in football and will therefore gain nothing from reading my theories.)

Dear (insert your name here),

By now you must realize football is about to cast an enormous shadow over your sunshiny days. All the attention you’ve grown used to is about to end. It’s not because we don’t love you. It’s that personal growth requires sacrifice.

Wait a sec... what the? I’m having one of those “freak out” coincidence moments. S I write this I’m watching a pre-season Monday Night Football game. It’s 8:47 PM. I’ve been pecking away at this journal for about 15 minutes and ESPN just ran a highlight clip to the music of, you guessed it, “Taking Care of Business.” Now that is whacky. Sort of a harmonic convergence. God’s way of saying, “Michael, my son, you’re right where you’re supposed to be… on the couch watching football.”

Oh, I almost forgot to say it… every day.

On a side note, it sounds like ESPN (now broadcasting Monday Night Football) has gone back to the original MNF music to bump in and out of commercial breaks. That makes me happy.

Back on subject… you can either tune us junkies out or become one yourself… or you can look deeper, past the surface and see all of this philosophically… even, dare I say, emotionally.

Consider this… we men haven’t had a decent conversation with our manly friends since the Super Bowl seven months ago. I’m serious. We’ve grunted at one another and somberly chewed on our hamburger meat since January. Now we have something to talk about again. So be grateful. It’s not just football season, it’s our personal growth season.

Oh yes, we’ll watch an inconceivable amount of football every weekend from now until the end of January 2007. But we’ll also deepen our interpersonal relationships by discussing--in excruciating detail—the how’s and why’s of all things football. We may forget an anniversary, but we know Jake Delhomme’s passer rating. We may even forget your dear mother’s birthday, but we know how many catches Steve Smith had Sunday. Or any Sunday.

You have soaps and Lifetime television and shopping and pedicures and spa treatments and People magazine and scrapbooking and you bond with your friends through all of it! We applaud you. We don’t get it… but we are impressed by all the bonding going on.

We men have sports.

You have Oprah Winfrey. We have Joe Buck. In fact, if you don’t know who Joe Buck is (and his late father… God rest his soul), that’s a perfect way to draw the proverbial line, to distinguish lovers of sport from you. Just because you cheer for the Panthers--you may even wear black and blue and go to a game or two—it doesn’t make you a football fan. That makes you a Panthers fan… which is an excellent start. But it is only the beginning of a long journey. It’s not the destination. Oprah would agree with me on that.

Football is a journey.

Trust me when I say we don’t get women. I’m sure you already knew that. The more we learn the less we know.

So we go back to sports. This is our “bonding.” When we jump out of our seats and high-ten each other, think of it as the equivalent of you crying tears of joy as you hug your best friend as you explain (for the tenth time) how Mr. Right proposed. We’re connecting in our own way. Other than shaking hands the very first time we meet, it’s the only time we ever touch another man. See it as progress. Evolution!

When we scream at the television, we’re emoting. We’re finally expressing what’s inside. Be happy we are able to identify it so quickly… for once. And pray that identification process will carry over to other areas… like say conversations about life or whatever.

When we compete to see who can turn his rancid chili smelling burps into the longest sentence, that’s not rude… it’s a thank you to the chef. Our way of showing gratitude.

When you overhear some men discussing fantasy football in the office, don’t roll you eyes and think we’re obsessive morons. We used to only fantasize about women. We’re branching out. Becoming more sophisticated humans. This too is growth! Get excited! At least for once we’re not talking about your chest. But that is a lovely sweater you’re wearing today.

Well, I hope I’ve helped. Now you can look around at the men in your life and feel proud. This time of year we’re spreading our wings and experiencing the healing power of inner and inter-personal growth. I just made you cry didn’t I? Go ahead. Take a minute. It’s deep stuff. So very deep. You almost need a shovel.

Football is a journey. And I am ready for it. Are you?