Last Modified: Friday, July 26, 2013 2:48 PM
Gee, I sure hope this is Sunday.
It shouldn’t matter to me what day of the week it is, but this is supposed to be a Sunday column, so it really kind of needs to be Sunday.
And it’s hard to tell this week. I’ve been confused and mixed up and out of sorts for several days now.
Things get of whack when you slip in a national holiday on a Thursday, as I believe was the case with our latest Independence Day celebration.
Happy birthday, America, by the way.
At least, I think that was Thursday. It felt like a Saturday, only with more fireworks than usual, but it was still missing something Saturdayish that kept reminding you it might be just another oddball Thursday.
Unless it was Friday, which it wasn’t because Friday popped up there right on time on what seemingly should have been a Sunday, but most people had to go to work so it evidently it wasn’t.
Thus, the confusion. By the middle of this week, we should all be back on our standard clocks and realize instinctively upon awakening what day of the week it is.
I should be more conditioned for this kind of day-of-the-week identity crisis than most. When you go off to cover a long-running sporting event, like a bowl game build-up or the meandering College World Series, basically days of the week get thrown in the dumpster. They don’t matter. They just sort of all run together with no real identifying marks of their own. After a while, you finally give up and quit trying to remember what day it is, just whether there’s a game to be played that day.
At bowl games, the coaches further complicate things by saying “We’re treating this as a Thursday” when you know dang good and well it’s a Tuesday and the game itself is on Thursday. But, to routine-conscious coaches, every game is on Saturday, even when it’s on Thursday, so they refuse to budge and get everybody mixed up.
I bring this up only because it is, by now, not only Sunday, but also, if you haven’t figured it out by now, a very slow sports day Sunday, one that isn’t exactly begging and crying out for the usual keen insight and opinion on the perspiring arts you’re used to getting from this foxhole.
But if Thursday (I guess) was July 4th, then I’m going to take a wild stab and guess that we are still in the month of July.
And yet, still fairly early in July, mind you, the most common refrain I hear these days is:
“Man, I can’t wait for football season to start.”
To that I say this: Football season will start when it’s supposed to.
And it is absolutely not supposed to start in July and, truth be told, probably shouldn’t start until the very last day of August has been exhausted or air-conditioned, whichever comes first.
There is a good reason the only people who play football in July get to play it in Canada.
For goodness sakes, have you been outside lately?
It’s way scorching, hell-boiling-over HOT out there!
Anybody who in July can’t wait for people to play tackle football, like tomorrow, has likely never played it in anger. It requires way too much clothing, protective and decorative, for July.
Big football players tend to sweat a lot even in November.
To my way of thinking, in July it’s too hot to even talk about football, let alone yearn to see it played, but people insist anyway.
There are other good reasons not to play football in July, and I will try to think of some on the fly here.
For one thing, the current Heisman Trophy winner, Mr. Johnny “Football” Manziel, would find it difficult to fit Texas A&M football into his busy July social calendar. He’s probably due at the Cannes Film Festival and perhaps the Dixon’s Grillin & Chillin Car & Truck Show, a staple of the Dixon, Calif., social scene.
Give him his space.
Football also needs July as sort of a bridge toward August, even though nothing football-wise will be happening then either, but we act like there is by overanalyzing college scrimmages and the farce of the NFL preseason.
Mainly, though, you need the entire month of July to carefully decipher the wide and helpful assortment of preseason football magazines, filled with lofty predictions and a whole of lot of surefire gambling tout ads.
These magazines are smarter than you are, else you wouldn’t buy them, and they have spent years perfecting the formulas that can line up the top 25 teams in America, sight unseen, and explain the preseason difference between, say, No. 18 Wisconsin and No. 19 Boise State.
They know what they are talking about, and are hardly ever wrong, except when they fail to factor in the knucklehead equation.
Recent advances in the science have even allowed the more advanced websites to rank the entire nation, as in 1-118 or something.
Most of them are going out on a limb and predicting Alabama will be pretty good this year.
LSU fans may be in for a shock. Normally a knee-jerk selection somewhere in the top five, the Tigers are mostly going to be in the low- to mid-teens.
The Tigers just can’t get around the math that weighs heavily on “returning starters,” of which the Tigers have scant few, at least on defense.
But LSU fans can take solace with July in that it gives them another month to evaluate the effect of Cam Cameron as the long-awaited new coordinator and how many bells and whistles he’ll add to that offense.
Standard answer: “He’ll be fine as long as Les Miles stays out of his way.”
Final thought and slow sports day Sunday (I think): Do these “56 (or whatever) days until kickoff” countdowns really serve the nation’s common good?
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Scooter Hobbs covers LSU athletics. Email him at firstname.lastname@example.org