Tuesday the players report to Oxnard for Training Camp. Thursday they start practicing. Tweets are going to start pouring in. Articles are going to start being daily fare. Videos will make a comeback on the mother ship. Excited? Just a little bit. I don't expect to get much work done this week. Some of it will be due to lack of sleep. Some of it will be due to surfing like a crazy man.
The biggest disappointment for me heading into Camp is the loss of Sean Lee. Not going to lie to you, he is probably my 2nd favorite current Cowboys player behind Witten. I like consummate professionals. Does it amaze me that he moved ahead of Tony and Dez on my list? It does a little, but he actually did. Ware was up there in 2nd, but he's gone. That moves everyone up.
Every year injuries in Camp and Pre Season temper my enthusiasm a little. The only thing I don't want are critical injuries. It's football, and they happen. I know that, and I still get down when they do.
Why am I excited? Because I love this game. I love everything about it. The sights, the smells, the sounds. I used to love the pain of the early practices. I know how dumb that sounds, but I somehow felt more alive when those familiar aches were back. I used to get to this point in a calendar year and I wanted to put on pads and go get hit. I wanted to hit someone too, but man I wanted to get hit. I wanted to pick myself up off the ground in some kind of symbolic rebirth. I'm 50 now and I don't want that any more. I guess with age does come some wisdom.
I'm excited as hell to see the video footage of Brad Sham introducing the team. I want to see Press Conferences again, even though I acknowledge that Jason doesn't say anything. I continue to be amused at how well he plays the press. I occasionally get to be thrilled when they ask a good question and he opens up. Those moments are rare. I'm ready to even hear their bad questions. Every injured player is day to day and they will see. They hope he gets back to practice soon. Practice is important.
I wonder who will be the dinged up players this year. The same ones who always are? Someone new? It doesn't matter really. Everyone gets some time in the tub as they work their bodies back into football shape.
We as fans work ourselves back into football shape in a different way. We get our hopes back up. We start re-arranging our evening schedules. We start bringing back little used over the off season websites to our surveillance modes. This is what we are supposed to do. We're supposed to go through every gamut of emotions. We're supposed to experience highs and lows. We're back on the roller coaster. I don't know about you, but I like that a lot more than a merry go round. I'll take the highs and lows. It's what makes it all so exciting.
Football is back in just a few days. Oh how I've missed it.
I too am excited!
Ah, the clack-clack of shoulder pads hitting shoulder pads. The thuds of helmet agin helmet.
It aint only cowboys football that get me excited it is the whole dadgum stew of NFL, college, high school and junior high football that gets me excited. Football for the little fry too.
It is this autumnal thing. Football camp signals the awakening of the spirit. It signals that our dreary post-NBA spring has begun a new. Like a freshly cooked tortilla. Like a loaf of granny's camp bread on the table. Like the first drink of pappy's squeezings that he will tweak and embolden before it go to "market."
This time of the year is the time when cheerleaders begin to perfect their kicks, when players, rusty from winter and spring, limber up. When hope spring anew in our hearts and tiny brains.
To me, camp is the official beginning of the year. The grass is still green, not yet yeilding to the frozen tundra, and the gatorade is made by the gallon instead of the quarts for spring limbering up.
Ah, the smell of football equipment seeing first daylight since December. Physicals in tiny burgs, held by the town's lone doctor. Or in Dallas, made by appointment and managers and agents in tow.
There is nothing I do not like about this time of the year. When we all look forward to the coming season of gladiators. Of Friday night small town clashes from which writers describe the games in painful and inarticulate ways. When college writers pen their stories in less inarticulate ways and the big guys pen their stories about players who in their spare time, walk old ladies across the street and visit injured construction workers in hospitals.
The smell of irrigation water falling on green grass. The temperatures are 99 degrees and kids old and young alike peeling their sweat stained jerseys from tired bodies. It is enough to revitalize me. To make me whole. To make me articulate in my inarticulate ways to tell you guys and gals that football is almost here. When all is right with our small corner of the world.
My prose has me teary-eyed and i cannot type further and besides Cops Reloaded is on the TV to keep me entertained until the season of gladiators arrive.