It was a heated playoff contest. Against the cold and under the stadium lights, we played our hearts out. On the sidelines, a parent stood with a camcorder taking in the action.
It was a B-league flag football game. A motherf—ing B-league flag football game.
With something like 100 B-league intramural flag football teams, at least 750 or so guys play the sport, which isn’t even counting the A-league, the co-ed leagues, the graduate student, faculty and staff league or fraternity leagues. And I don’t have the figure on this, but for about, oh, 100 percent of these guys, it means way too much.
Last November, my team won a game in the playoff round of 32, ending on a controversial call as time expired. For the mother of one of the opposing team’s members — who, yes, was on the sideline videotaping the game — it was all too much to handle. Which is why I had the unique experience of being told “bite me” by a middle-aged woman at the closing of a B-league flag football game.
What’s wrong with you guys? I understand that maybe some of you played sports– in high school and it’s a chance to relive the glory days (they’ll pass you by). But it’s B-league flag football, for crying out loud. Maybe it’s because I’m an average athlete — we win games thanks to my roommates, the all-universe John Stockton-Karl Malone tandem of B-league flag football, whereas I lead the league in chest bumps — but it’s just not important enough to get worked up over. I work a soul-sucking job 35 hours a week and enjoy running around with my friends for 40 minutes on Tuesday nights. But for some of you weirdos, it’s like life and death while wearing frilly orange flags around your waists emblazoned with the Butterfinger logo.
Have you seen some of the reactions to plays in these games? It’s ridiculous. Kids scream and swear at each other, the refs or no one in particular. I particularly enjoyed the kids last year who would stomp around on the 20-yard line howling, “This is the line!” It’s like you guys are roid raging. Just go out and play around and have fun. Because either you lose your game, and then nobody really cares, or you win your game, and then nobody really cares.
Analogy time: People who brag about their intramural teams are like adults who brag about their kids. You’re annoying, no one gives a shit and your kids/teams aren’t special. Suck it up and just try to enjoy yourself. You’re in your 20s now. If you have that much time to devote to intramural sports, go get a job or something.
I’ve never felt the douchebag quotient was higher at the university than when I’m playing intramurals. Guys who I’m sure are normal, everyday upstanding citizens in real life are transformed into ’80s teen movie villains when they step foot on the turf. The screaming, the preening and the misplaced testosterone get really old really fast.
So the next time you take the field, leave that shit at home. And your mom. And her video camera.
Rob Gindes is a senior journalism major. He can be reached at gindes at umdbk dot com.
