Football

I never remember my father either watching or talking about football. He loved basketball and track, but football— "A lot of men dressed in padding pummeling each other."

So I grew up in the shadow of Yankee Stadium thinking that football didn't hold a candle to baseball or basketball.

In my twenties my next door neighbor loved college football and knew a lingo I never learned. We lived in the south, not deep south, where college football was close to a religious experience. My neighbors grew up in Louisiana and Mississippi and football was serious business.

Whether Ole Miss won or not mattered. Whether they received an invitation to a bowl mattered. You can't live someplace surrounded by this adoration and not take a peek at a game.

First, I put a toe in and then my son took an interest and while he never wanted to play— he collected football cards and knew each player's statistics.

When we moved to New England I found myself interested in the Patriots. They weren't too successful and I loved cheering for an underdog. That's a long time ago.

Now they are one of the best teams—and I find myself, if not watching a game, checking the score on my ITouch.

How did this happen? How did I find myself watching "A lot of men dressed in padding pummeling each other." —and really caring about the score.