About Sunday And Pace

Post 19:

            Pacing is a word that’s on my mind today. Name it what you will. Timing works. Even rhythm. Actually, forget rhythm, it’s too hard to spell. Bringing it up because it’s Sunday. It’s been relaxing. I’ve gotten to hang out with like-minded people, tried to make sense out of nonsense—a beer, a water, a water, a beer. Football’s been on almost everywhere I go. So while I’m on hiatus from good conversation, my head wonders in the direction of a screen. For a second I try to understand why football is played on Sunday, why it’s so popular.

            I think it’s the pace. Whether you’re at home or hanging out at a pub, the flow of action makes sense. Especially for God’s day of rest. While I generally balk at the stops and starts, they do make it easy to check in and out, focus and unwind, over and over. Here I’m not referring to the guys with six laptops running and twelve fantasy teams going, making overseas bets on the over-under of whatever. That guy needs to chill.

            But to each their own. Most people, I think, want to relax. They want the story of their Sunday to be about the game and the people and the conversation and how it all kind of blended together in a seamless, mindless way. The week can be unrelenting. Think of it as a river. Rivers don’t stop. Life is like that, most of the time. The thing happens, this needs fixing, the kids need driving, the house needs something, the guy at work…

            And then there’s Sunday. So what if there’s a pause in the action? I need a pause. I wish there were timeouts in life. It would be great if I could walk up to every jerk doing something awful and throw a yellow flag across his face. I’d wave my arms, tell the world to hold on. We’re not cranking this thing back up until Gary gets his crap together. You get my point. It’s order. It’s in manageable servings. There’s a beginning, middle, and end.

            Football and really every sport is just a real life story unfolding for your entertainment. It’s a story that’s built for the Sabbath.

            Oh yeah, sorry to anyone named Gary. Just felt right. See you after.