So. How’s your day going?
UPDATE: A number of people whose opinions about college football I respect have pointed out that I could be wrong about this, especially when considering short-term pain (yet another freaking SEC championship) versus long-term pain (Oh, god, Notre Dame fans shut up already). Perhaps I should reconsider.
Or perhaps I should just watch the end of the Purdue game over and over and over.
Part of being a grownup is having to make the best of a no-win situation.
Except that in this case, someone is going to win. And neither choice is going to make me especially happy.
Notre Dame plays Alabama for college football’s national championship tonight. And on what would normally be a practically holy day for me, I find myself instead thinking about skipping the whole thing and going to bed early.
Notre Dame and Alabama. Fighting Irish and Crimson Tide. Elves and Elephants. Bleh.
My default in this situation would normally be to cheer for the team that’s not in the Southeastern Conference; I know we can’t do anything about the Superiority Of The SEC myth until the SEC starts losing title games (although I’d still love to see what would happen if the SECers ever stopped padding their schedules with the southern branches of the Little Sisters of the Poor, but there’s little chance of that happening anytime soon), so tonight’s game should, in theory, be an easy one for me to figure out.
In theory? Sure.
In practice? Ah, crap, it’s Notre Dame.
The leaders of College Football Entitlement have finally worked their way back into relevance, and a win tonight would touch off months of unbearable cackling, even though the program hasn’t mattered since I was in high school. Also likely on tap: an extension of its NBC television contract, which will make things that much more complicated when the Domers finally realize the inevitable, that full membership in a conference is necessary for its survival.
So what do I do tonight?
Nick Saban — who very well could be the sleaziest man in football — and the SEC? Ugh.
Notre Dame and its insufferable fans? Gack.
I should probably just flip a coin. Or, better, maybe bag the whole thing and watch the 2012 Ohio State highlights DVD I just got for Christmas.
But I feel like I am duty-bound, as a Serious College Football Fan, to order up a mess of wings and watch the game. And for nearly arbitrary reasons — Midwest versus the Southeast, I guess — I’m going to swallow hard and be a Domer for a day.
There you go, Irish — I’m in your corner. For today, at least.
And doing it as best I know how:
* Florida was fabulous. The kids are amazing little people — getting more grown up by the minute — and my sister and BIL are doing a great job with them. Mrs. Crappy and I got to the beach four of the six days we were there. I ran a 10K and didn’t die. And we properly celebrated Crappydad’s upcoming 75th birthday.
* And then we had to come home to snow flurries. Really?
* While we were in Florida, I neglected to wrap up the Seventh Annual Uncle Crappy NCAA Final Four Challenge (Brought To You By Bocktown). Because of unusual circumstances that require consultation with our sponsor, I will do so on Monday.
* The 10K was difficult, but fun. I was too slow — finished at 1:20 — but I completed the race knowing what I needed to focus on as I get ready for the Pittsburgh Half. And then my groin decided that there would be no running of any consequence this week, and I’m left with three weeks to prepare to run 13 miles. I am not happy about this. I’ve joked a bunch about not letting my various attempts at running kill me — see above, for example — but the half — especially if it’s a warm morning — actually could be a dangerous thing, given my lack of training in the last couple weeks.
* If I’m able to run it at all.
* For as excited as I was about the start of the hockey playoffs, the actual games have been nothing short of a horror. I’m less concerned with the fights and cheap shots on both sides — they happen, although usually not this much in the playoffs — than I am with Penguins’ horrible defensive effort. Or lack thereof. The team is staying positive — Bylsma said after Sunday’s game that Fleury would start the remaining four games of the series — and I will as well.
* I’ll do that for a couple of reasons. First: Mrs. Crappy and I want to watch Friday’s game at the big screen outside CEC. Can’t do that if the series ends Wednesday night.
* Second: I need to give my playoff beard a little more time.
As I’ve said here many times before, I try to stay far, far away from Facebook memes, mostly because I don’t like encouraging that kind of thing. But, as you probably know, I also have a hard time resisting one that has to do with music.
And this one, my friends, is a doozy.
My friend @TheLegendofJill posted this to Facebook late Wednesday; I saw it this morning and had to take a look. What Jill posted:
1) Find out the song that was No. 1 the week you were born.
2) Find that song on YouTube.
3) Post that video on your wall without shame.
Jill was happy to post a video of Rupert Holmes’ “Escape (The Pina Colada Song),” a delightfully cheesy slice of the late 1970s. In response, I joked that no one was making music videos in 1966.
And oh, how I wish I was correct. Had I been born a couple weeks earlier, it would have been The Supremes’ “You Can’t Hurry Love.” A week later? The Four Tops’ “Reach Out I’ll Be There.” And I would have been perfectly happy with either classic Motown song.
Ladies and gentlemen, the No. 1 song on Oct. 12, 1966:
Let’s be straightforward here. I know this song. I know it well. And I’ve always hated it. As in, The Association’s “Cherish” Is One Of The Worst Songs In The History Of Music Hatred.
So, Jill. I found the song. I found and posted the video.
But posting it without shame? Sorry. No can do.
Today started out OK.
The show last night was amazing. Exactly what I needed. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.
I didn’t get a ton of sleep, and that’s part of the reason why I gave myself a one-day break from running. It was still a good morning, though.
I know when it started, but I’m not sure why it continued. But by the middle of the afternoon, my mood had rapidly spiraled. Getting through the rest of the day at work with something that resembled a smile was tough. Coming home and trying not to be annoyed with everything and everyone has been harder.
By the end of the day, I was questioning everything. And feeling confident about nothing. I try to tell myself that this isn’t me. But sometimes it is.
It’s 10 o’clock. I am stopping now, and going to bed. I’ll run when I get up. I’ll finish some work stuff that I’m in no mood to tackle now. I’ll get ready to go to Columbus.
And I hope this will be past.