Hello world.

The Super Bowl was last night. Boy, was that boring. What a let down! Even as a fan of Seattle (from the Northwest), I was still bored. As a die-hard Peyton Manning fan? Ugh, I could barely watch it. What’s worse, after it was over, the game permeated all my thoughts: brushing my teeth, dressing in pajamas, tossing and turning in bed, eating a midnight snack.

Poor Peyton Manning, in my brain like a mouse. Not just Peyton but his great year and his team—all the records they broke. Then I thought about the Monday Morning Quarterbacks, the anti-Peyton crowd, who with newfound passion will argue again whether or not Peyton Manning is “good.”

Finally, I feel asleep. It was peaceful. Honestly, I don’t remember much. However, when I woke up, the first thing I thought about was Peyton Manning. Poor Peyton Manning. What a miserable soul we both are.

Then it hit me.

Why the Hell am I still thinking about Peyton Manning?

It scares me, that a professional sport has this much power over me, my thoughts, my disposition. If the Broncos would’ve won (or at least competed), I would’ve, potentially, showed up for life in brighter spirits.

Let me repeat that. 

If a football game went a different way, I would’ve been in a better mood.

Let me clarify that. 

If millionaire strangers performed their jobs better, I wouldn’t have snapped at the bus driver this morning.

Here’s What I’m Thinking

It’s apparent that I’ve become way too invested in professional sports this year. Time for a breather. The NFL season is over, and I’m glad for it. Bring me a tee-off detox. An ESPNicorette. A cold-turkey Bowl. A..

It’s amazing how easy we invest our time and energy into the wrong things. American culture isn’t “What can I do today,” but “What should I choose NOT to do today.”  Getting obsessive over football is just a way to kill time, I suppose. But I wonder what I’m shutting out by shutting in football. In other words, I’ve been eating the banana peel, and I’m hungry for something a little more substantial.

So yes. Detox me, baby. I plan on being free of sports for quite some time. Unless.. oh yes, baseball is coming. Oh lord, baseball is coming.

What was I saying?