A Kings man has come to the sad realization that the entire culture of Sunday football is not really all that “manly.”
Eric Little, a 34-year-old Wrong Island City resident, had this revelation on Monday morning when one of his female co-workers at the Macrapolis Department of Education asked him what he did over the weekend.
A sense of emptiness and profound sadness suddenly overwhelmed Little. Nearly two months have passed since the end of football season, and its conclusion left a huge void in Little’s life.
But, that sadness quickly turned into confusion as Little began to reminisce on the season. He flashed-back to memories of sitting on the couch watching football in his boxers, eating nachos and cheese, and drinking beers. The image of his balls hanging half-way out of his boxers and his small man-boobs poking out of his wife-beater began to terrify him.
“It’s like it all came together at once — as if by some sort of divine intervention,” Little tells The Bluffington Roach. “I saw myself sitting there with my balls out watching a bunch of large men in tights colliding at extraordinary speeds. Then I thought to myself ‘wow, ten-player pile-ups aren’t very manly.”
At that moment, Little realized that everything he grew up believing about Sunday football was a lie. From an early age he was raised to view Sunday football as one of the few opportunities for hardworking men to let go of life’s worries and just be men for a few hours.
The sacred laws of Sunday football were ingrained in him from a young age:
- Thou shalt drinketh and be merry.
- Thou shalt purchaseth snacks to enjoy the game.
- Thou shalt argueth every sports debate with passion and anger.
- Thou shalt not touch, smelleth, or speaketh to women unlesseth they’re also watching the game or cookithing.
- Thou shalt not interacteth with children unlesseth they’re dying.
Accordingly, Little held fast to those sacred laws from grade school up until a few days ago. That’s when he began questioning everything — like why he sits in his boxers every Sunday checking up on the performance of men whom he’s virtually collected, on what he calls his fantasy team.
He’s begun to question the whole notion that watching football is a masculine thing to do.
“I brought a 95-inch T.V. just so I could get a better view of men tackling each other and catching balls,” Little says. “There I am sitting on the couch, slowly killing myself — while watching other men, who are in peak physical condition, play a fucking game for millions of dollars.”
While Little believes that he’s actually rediscovering his manhood by questioning the manliness of Sunday football, millions of other men would say he’s just being gay.
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