It is time to start talking football. I was thinking about this on my drive to Pasadena for LSAT class this morning: I often make the crack that I am unavailable for work/obligations/whatever because Sundays are my day of worship--but only from September through January. As I got to thinking about it further, I realized that in pure anthropological terms, football actually is the closest thing I have in my life to religion. If you believe people actually need rituals of some sort, then you would have to see Sunday afternoons that way for me. It is communal, it is emotional release, it is putting my faith in powers out of my control--or in this case in Cowhers out of my control. Have I mentioned that I'm very serious about football, especially NFL football, and particularly Steeler football? During grad school, Steeler Sundays were the one time I got away from grad school to hang out with a different group among whom I found legitimate community--ex-patriate Pittsburghers. As much fun as I had last season watching the games with The Good Doctor, making Eddie George/David Byrne jokes and the like, I haven't had my ritual in a year and a half, and I'm Jonesing for it in a huge way. (BTW, if you're a Steeler fan Jonesing fcr the ritual, go here.) I'll be at the Shark's Cove in Hermosa Beach tomorrow, and I can't wait.

In honor of the start of the Steeler season, I give you this work in progress, with deep deep apologies to Concrete Blonde, and also to anyone who happens to read it:

Joey, Porter, your season, got shorter
Contract's expensive, but our team's less defensive
I know you've heard them all before
So I won't make the jokes no more
I just lay off and hope you're back in two to four
And though I used to wonder why
Our defense needed 55
I just watch Haggans play and heave a deep deep sigh
Oh, Joey if you're hurtin' so am I...