The young man was clean, well-groomed and polite.<\/p>\n
“Going to watch the game Sunday?”<\/p>\n
“Isn’t everybody?” I replied glibly without a split-second’s hesitation. I don’t know why. I’ve never done anything like that before. I know from more than fifty years of living that lies corrode one’s soul. Besides, when you lie about sports or politics\u00a0 you inevitably get caught in your own web.<\/p>\n
“Who’s going to win?” he smiled.<\/p>\n
“Steelers,” I assured him. Where was this coming from? What malignant spirit had taken possession of me? Why was I fibbing about something of absolutely no consequence? And yet, I wasn’t finished.<\/p>\n
“Is it going to be blowout?” the young man pressed while guiding the courtesy shuttle toward my home, which suddenly seemed a continent away. We couldn’t get there soon enough to shut me up.<\/p>\n
“I don’t know,” I said with wrinkled brow, the very picture of a man examining his superior expertise, “I don’t think so but Pittsburgh’s defense is just too good for the Cardinals.”<\/p>\n
Ten minutes earlier I had no idea who was playing in the Superbowl tomorrow. When I’m sitting in the waiting room of the Toyota dealer’s service department I’ll read anything I can find. Ten minutes earlier it happened to be the sports page, which I never read anywhere else.<\/p>\n
And now I was lying to a clean young man, well-groomed and polite.<\/p>\n
I could brush this off as a victim of cultural insistence. I am an American man. We worship at the alter of the NFL. While I have boldly, even cheerfully admitted to preferring chick flicks to action movies and my inherent ineptitude when the subject turns to Motor Trend magazine this — this is beyond the pale.<\/p>\n
I don’t care about football. Not even the Superbowl.<\/p>\n
Those were the most painful two sentences I have ever written. The shame is coursing through my stomach. I can’t stop thinking of my father and my sons. They expect more from me. I am grateful my camping buddies aren’t here to witness this. Confession may be good for the soul but it can torture the heart.<\/p>\n
I don’t care one whit about football.<\/p>\n
Please, let me be alone.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"