For those of you expecting something uber-spiritual this morning...sorry.
I have lots of spiritual things going on in my little mind but on a Saturday morning in September, well, it is the Ramble Zone.
I love college football. I believe it to be the greatest sport in the history of mankind. A close second is Calvin Ball or maybe Racquetball, but I digress. I am unabashedly Texan and as a Texan I was bred on Football. For those of you not familiar with Texas, please let me clarify:
A lot of people in Texas go to church on Sunday morning and worship at a church. In West Texas, 80-90% are in a church building come Sunday morning. But, and I say this only slightly tongue in cheek, more people worship Friday, Saturday and Sunday in a stadium temple with grid-iron carpet where the coveted back row is the 50 yard line about 15 rows up. A book, Friday Night Lights (later a movie and now a TV show) was written about the phenomenon of West Texas football and the Odessa Permian Panthers. It's not a joke. Football in Texas, particularly in small towns, is as deeply felt as the price of cotton, cattle and West Texas crude.
I live in a country where football is futbol and is played with a spherical ball on a larger field and on every plot of land flat enough to stick a dozen kids and two goals. Here is it Football Americano Colegeio and the papers don't write about it and no one talks about it and on a Saturday in September no one cares. I have moved from a land where a game was sewn into the fabric of my being to a land made of a different thread, a different pattern - one of its own beauty and grace. Still beautiful but different, foreign.
So today, one day out of seven, for a dozen or so weeks in the fall, I celebrate my heritage. I was woven with the strands of football - they help make up the earthly Brandon - and while they hold no eternal value (at least not much) they, like barbecue, bluebonnets in the spring, red oaks, and pizza on Christmas Eve are the things that gave me a place to call home. And to reject them would be silly. To reject all other things would be tragic. And so I hold them both and relax in the tension. And I follow a game that means very little, but matters much.