I have to say though it was quite an achievement for me to sit and watch 4 hours of football because, shocking though this announcement may be to some, I’m not what you’d call much of a sports fan. No really I’m not. I’m even less of a fan of American sports where the games seem to go on for, let’s be honest here, an ETERNITY – what’s with all the stopping? - but I do rather like to champion the underdog, especially when the underdog is from my adopted home city and the favourites include all round golden boy and scumbag love rat Tom Brady.
It’s team Moynihan all the way in my corner of town. I’m not at all a fan of Tom.
I realise of course that I am making sweeping generalisations about Tom Brady’s character based solely on what I’ve read in the gossip columns. It’s more than a little judgmental of me perhaps, but I just don’t care. Dumping your girlfriend when she is pregnant with your child…well, it’s just not good form is it. I feel similarly about Billy Crudup. I’ll give you that he’s a very talented actor and I used to find him rather attractive, but after the whole shenanigans of him dumping of Mary Louise Parker when she was pregnant he just makes my skin crawl. Repulsive!!
Anyway as I’ve said I’m not much of a sports fan, in fact the only time I ever go to games in the US is when my friend Nick visits me in New York. He usually coerces me into something or other. The first time it was a Yankees match and I considered it was a true sign of the value of our friendship that I was willing to forgo a precious Saturday afternoon to watch a pile of sweaty men spit and scratch their bollocks for a few hours, but that wasn’t enough for him. Oh no, he insisted I actually watch the game and was utterly appalled that I brought a magazine with me. Hey, I needed something to do in case I got bored. To my credit I didn’t open it once in the FOUR AND A HALF HOURS we were sat there – see, I’m a true friend and by God was my arse was numb from those hard plastic seats – and I did have quite a nice afternoon – a couple of beers helped - but I have to admit that my favourite part of the whole thing was at half time when the grounds men tidied up the pitch while doing a routine to YMCA. The rest of it, I could take or leave.
There just isn’t anything in it for me. I don’t even like it for eye candy purposes, although admittedly big swarthy men just don’t really do it for me, in general I prefer a leaner man, like a football player for instance – and when I say football I do of course mean ‘the beautiful game’. However if my friends are any barometer I’m a bit of an exception as a fair few I know are quite turned on by these baseball/American football types. They tell me it’s because the guys are so huge they would make them feel tiny, but then I’m 5ft 1 and a 114lbs (8stone 2 Brits), so i'd be hard pressed to find a man that wouldn’t make me feel tiny, although your average jockey would probably make me feel like a right heifer, but I’d be worried about an American football player slipping on a banana skin or some such and squashing me flat as a pancake.
Times Square celebrations courtesy of Lordofnerur via Flickr