Football is just a game …?

I’m not a fan of football. I tried to be once, but I just couldn’t see the point. Sure, it’s a great excuse for a party, but I just don’t get it.

My son is a Hawkeye Fanatic-he owns everything Hawkeye from posters and glasses to sheets and towels.

I understand the game and why guys (and sometimes girls) play it, but the way fans act during football games reminds me a little of an election year; too competitive and quite nasty.

I do follow the Iowa Hawkeyes, probably because my son is Hawkeye-crazy. I’m happy when they win, but I’m not really unhappy when they lose…it’s just a game, right? And just because the Hawkeyes lose a few games is no reason to hate the world.

But I know it affects some people that way. After the Hawkeye’s loss to a central Michigan last Saturday, some people went a little overboard, calling for Hawkeye Coach Kirk Ferentz to resign.(But it wasn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.)

The University of Iowa pays him pretty a hefty salary to coach football–according to, over $3 million a year. And if the university is paying him to win games, he hasn’t been doing his job. (The Hawkeyes lost to rival Iowa State University the week before.)

That’s another thing I don’t understand-so many people work their fingers to the bone to squeeze out a living, and there are pro football players who make millions a year just for throwing a football around three months out of the year.

If I liked football more, would I be able to understand the insanity? Maybe, but I don’t mind being the odd (wo) man out. I have better things to do than to freeze my butt off on a cold stadium bench, or spend hours in bumper to bumper traffic.

Some people like the thrill of Game Day; the tailgating, the frigid temperatures, the camaraderie and the competition.

And even though I don’t, I’ll still cheer the Hawkeyes on, and if they lose, oh well. After all, football is just a game…for most people, anyway.

9/11/01 remembered

It was a day like any other. We were short-handed at the restaurant I was working at, catering to the usual morning crowd.

Associated Press

I heard someone say, “A plane hit one of the Towers,” and suddenly, the day wasn’t usual anymore. In fact, it would be day we would never forget.

We didn’t have a TV in the restaurant and had to rely on the radio in the kitchen for any news. Officials first thought it was a random accident, but when another plane hit the other Twin Tower 17 minutes later, an eerie silence filled the restaurant.

We tried to continue, business as usual, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. The shock and panic that filled each and every one of us told the tale of how nothing would ever be the same. As I listened to the news report that a plane going down in Pennsylvania and the Pentagon being hit by an airplane, I got a scared and sick feeling in my stomach.

The days that followed were filled with stories of tragedy, heroism, and more tragedy. I got to the point where I couldn’t watch the news anymore because it was too difficult to think about what those people went through.

New fears gripped the nation, and with it came a new word, which would become a part of American’s vocabulary: Terrorism.

As the years went by, people began to adapt to the new America; a country that had to become more vigilant, more secure, and more guarded. We became suspicious of our neighbors, because suddenly, everyone was a suspect. No one was safe.

But Americans are fighters and we vowed not to let Terrorism do that to us. We wouldn’t “let those acts divide us and together we would win the war on terrorism.”

But it’s a never-ending battle. Those who have a hatred for America are constantly devising plans to destroy us, leading us to believe that we will always have to watch, to wait, and be ready for anything.

We will never be the same again.

Nor will we forget the people who died, the loved ones who were lost, and the heroes who were made that day, 11 years ago.

Twin Towers memorial-Associated Press

Today, as I watched video clips of that horrific day, those same feelings of empathy and terror welled up inside of me and I can’t help but think the terrorists did what they set out to do. They have made us afraid of our own shadows. As much as we would like to think that we feel safe and secure, are we really?

The memorial in New York City looks nice, and I would like to see it someday to pay tribute to all those who died. Those who remember that day have been affected in one way or another. It’s something that’s impossible to forget.

We would never want to, anyway.