LOOKING FORWARD TO FOOTBALL, WITH AN ASTERISK

Opinion, by Larry Carlson

I can't wait for college football.

The countdown to kickoff has been a big part of the rites of summer for me since 1961 when I got my first issue of (Dave Campbell's) Texas Football magazine. It had debuted one year earlier but I hadn't spotted it the summer I turned seven years old. But that fall of '60, my family drove from San Antonio to Austin for my first three Longhorn home games. Hooked for life.

It's been a long time since you had to wait till mid-July to get primed for football. The NFL and college ball, even Texas High School football, have now for decades all been discussed year-round on multiple platforms

Fine by me.

Friends of mine know that it's not just the Longhorns that get me fired up. For years, I've been motivated by college football's Thursday evening offerings in the same way tens of millions of Americans extend their weekends with Monday Night Football. It used to be, until only a few years ago, a guy could get September matchups along the lines of South Carolina versus Florida State. But then the NFL invaded Thursday's airwaves and college football began to serve up hotter duels on Fridays than on Thursdays. I'm a man who values his marriage, though. Friday nights are not to be tampered with when my wife is already generously acknowledging my need for Saturday double-headers by the grill and TV. So I will gladly take an intriguing Tulane-Tulsa matchup on Thursday, gleefully seasoning the steaks and pouring a few chilly libations to complement the festivities.

Many of you will likely join me in admitting that those of us who truly need college football got more than a bit dewy-eyed last August when our glowing Samsungs featured the Austin Peay Governors visiting a Covid-emptied stadium to tussle with the formidable Central Arkansas Bears. We needed that. We really did.

And, believe me, I love, love, love early November nowadays. MAC-tion, baby. That's right, the Mid-American Conference battles sure liven up the Tuesday night and Wednesday night TV sports landscapes. Meet the Glass Bowl, home of the Toledo Rockets. Plus great games with the Western Michigan Chippewas, the Northern Illinois Huskies and other titanic teams from directional schools in America's heartland. For me, it's another week or two of giving extra thanks before Thanksgiving.

All this exuberance and anticipation for college football....but I know that when the kickoff of the first televised games arrive on August 28th, I'll quickly start cussing at the TV screen. Why? Because I'm old, and change ain't easy. Used to play street football with Methuselah when we were kids. There was no overtime.

My excitement will still be building as I watch ESPN Gameday, though I wince a little each time the hosts wildly over-laugh at a mild joke to build the teenage kegger atmosphere among the crew.. Then I'll grimace as I watch the home team enter through the requisite smoke-spray tunnel Maybe there will be player protests as the national anthem or school song is played -- or isn't -- by the home team's band. More indigestion for this ancient fan.

As soon as I see orchestrated celebrations, like players skipping around and shrieking like nine-year-old girls as the ball gets teed up, my chagrin begins to grow. Then the celebrations after each play....guys crowing and shimmying after a three-yard gain or a big hit after somebody still made a first down on them.

As the score builds to a basketball-like halftime score of something like 38-31, I'll be wondering if anyone left on the planet can make a tackle or defend a 3rd-and-17 situation. I'll explode when somebody stretches the ball to break the plane on a first-and-goal run and fumbles. I'll even be noticing those detestable duplicate numbers and again wondering why, with 85 scholarships, we can't just issue 99 separate numbers to the squad members suiting up. Should every recruit be promised his high school number and should fifty walk-ons get to suit up?

In the second half, as one team pulls away, I'll shake my head about the players laughing and playing grabass on the sidelines of a team losing by 24. I'll be spewing expletives at clowns who field punts at the two-yardline and who don't get out of bounds when their team has no timeouts. I'll probably hurl my cap across the room when the TV guys do a feature story on the latest turnover belt or crown, bejeweled pick-six jacket and other sideline trinkets and toys.

In post-game comments, coaches will praise "the kids" (pronounced key-uds) for their play and enthusiasm.

I guess that sums up, sort of, my beef with the greatest sport in the world. I'm an aging curmudgeon who misses the day when steely-eyed "gridiron warriors" were treated as men and acted as such. Hell, most of 'em are older than our U.S. Marines. Their tight smiles once upon a time came from victories they had been trained to earn and expect, not from an individual play that brought wild hysterics in spite of a 31-point deficit.

I'm not against spontaneous celebrations after truly meaningful plays. I just can't stand the rehearsed Muhammad Ali-esque antics that now occur dozens and dozens of times each game.

Still, as I told you before the long rant, I just can't wait for Western Centralia against Eastern Meditation and Akron versus Dacron. And I'm really eager to see a new era of Texas football get under way against the Ragin' Cajuns on September 4.

DON’T MESS WITH LARRY CARLSON AND HIS BELOVED LONGHORNS