Six games in 12 hours, touted yesterday’s Post — the vintage, papery one — in red typeface. Say, I thought, that sounds like just the ticket for a sort-of holiday Monday. And those six games didn’t include the Winter Classic or the Wizards — just college bowl games. How great is that?
Well, not so great, really. I gave it my best shot, tuning in at noon for the TicketCity Bowl, in part to figure out where TicketCity was. Now I know it’s not a place, except in the Internet sense. Then Houston began slapping Penn State around the field, and I got bored. It was about 12:10 p.m.
No matter. Three games at 1 p.m. Fun! Like the NCAA tournament, sort of. Except I was also in the middle of a good book and I couldn’t keep track of the channels, and I needed to run to the store . . . and there went the six games in 12 hours plan. After that it was flip-flip-flip. Two days into 2012, and I’ve broken my resolution to flip less.
(Although I succeeded in my resolution to become a photograph. I see in Tuesday’s vintage, papery Post that I am no longer a pen-and-ink drawing, and neither is Sally Jenkins. We’re Real Girls! I feel like that guy in the a-ha video — you know the one, from back in the days when you couldn’t just see any video you wanted on YouTube, you had to wait for someone called a veejay to play them. “Take On Me”? Remember? Never mind.)
Truthfully, there was never any hope that even my photograph would be awake for the Fiesta Bowl with Oklahoma State vs. Stanford; I was proud to see the end of Oregon-Wisconsin in the Rose Bowl. That’s my fault; I treated Monday like a regular work day, rising at 4:30 a.m. Metro responded by charging me full rush-hour fare. Serves me right. The Fiesta Bowl would have been roughly the equivalent of an all-nighter, and I already earned my college degrees, and without the help of Red Bull. (Is there a Red Bull Bowl? There should be.)
Besides, do we really need six bowl games in 12 hours? Well, we don’t, of course, but with the holidays falling on weekends this year, I suppose this is the result. A better plan, for me, would have been to pick one or two, but it does sort of feel like the NCAA tournament: It’s being offered; shouldn’t I be watching?
Have we really bought into the hype of bowl season, that we have to see all these games, from the ones with ridiculous names to the ones featuring the Heisman Trophy winner and runners-up, the Honey Badgers, teams who’ve changed conferences or are about to, teams who will be punished by the NCAA for something, the team that just missed a shot at the national title game?
Some fans are willing to devote a half-day to the remote simply because in a week, college football will be gone. They can still separate its parts and see little glints of good gleaming in the sludge of the corruption — and worse — that taints the sport, and they want to enjoy it while they can. And I say good for them.
I want to enjoy it, too, but on my own terms. I want to stop wallowing in hours of programming just because the BCS or ESPN or even the papery Post tells me to. Forget less flipping; I’m going for more discernment in 2012.