Finally, the waiting is all over. Labor Day, the traditional end of summer, is behind us. We are now officially in the throes of the rapidly approaching “national contest”. Sides have been chosen. The percentages and predictions have been made, and changed, and made again. All that remains now is for the battle to begin, the winner chosen, and then for the country to struggle to come together in civility and respect when it’s all over. That’s a tall order. We have been here before, and as we get closer and closer to November, the arguments and debates will pit friend against friend, brother against brother-in-law, and everybody down at the job will be against the new guy. Families will feud, and the division across the land will grow greater, but in the end, the simple truth is that this nation will have to accept a winner. Whether you like it or not, one will win, and the other will lose when the National Championship is decided on January 20, 2025. Wait… what did you say? You thought this was about politics? Well heck no, we ain’t talking politics, son; we are talking Football, serious Football! It is the real deal, and it is finally ON! This past Saturday morning, I witnessed the best pre-game show you could ever imagine. As I sat on the porch, seven seriously overweight Canadian geese at low altitude skimmed right over the top of my house honking like a bad saxophone recital, and barely missing my chimney. It was an undeniable sign! Ok. I admit it. It wasn’t like a formation of F-15s, streaking over the Tate Center and Sanford Stadium, but I had the feeling the geese really knew something about symbolism. As they disappeared into the pine trees, Kirby Smart started his game day interview on ESPN radio about Saturday’s game. Those geese knew something, alright, and it had to be a harbinger of things bigger than the moment. To some folks, those flying garbage cans might have just seemed like obnoxious, out-of-control migratory tailgaters, but I quickly understood what was really happening. This “flyover” was in tribute to the least appreciated participant in the whole football experience. What other reason could there be for these seven rowdy, uninvited flight risks to suddenly appear? It was in honor of the worst kind of over-dedicated, way too enthusiastic, nearly delirious and lovable sports fan that we all ever knew. The one that always shows up 20 minutes late holding up everybody else with hot wings stuffed into his jacket and something alcoholic in a Dasani water bottle. Yep, you know the one. And even though they will swear they quit years ago, they will eventually pull out a pack of no-filter Camels. But if you fuss at them for smoking, they will pout all day or want to fight somebody. They say they have Herschel Walker’s “super private” cell number, but they can’t use his real name when he calls. You put up with them and all of that because they still tell the best jokes that everybody already knows word for word, but still almost chokes to death laughing at. The game just wouldn’t be the same without them, and mostly because there’s just nobody making memories like that anymore. Fans and friends are important. More than that, they are absolutely essential to the whole experience. Sort of like voters are to that other competitive process. But the big difference is that fans do what they do because it’s honest, and they love it. Too bad that doesn’t carry over into politics. Well, that just about does it for this short look at Fall, Fans, and Flying garbage cans. Life is short, and there’s a lot to enjoy around us this time of year, without wasting time on that “other contest” that’s going on. Friday night will be here soon, and the geese will be flying again on Saturday. You might be Democrat, or you might be Republican, but one thing we can all still vote “yes” on, is Football!
