I love football the way Robert Frost loved New Hampshire. Love its nuances, cherish its grand, green pastures. I love the way the most nimble back slips a little while handling a punt. I love the way a long snapper air-mails it over the kicker's head.
But I don't need to see any of it seven times. Instant replay has gone too far, threatening to change the very character of the game with endless repeats from too many angles.
I was married once. No replays. I watched the births of my children just once. No replays.
So I sure don't need to see a routine catch half a dozen times. Or all those cut-ins from other games. Like those 64-ounce sodas and Dolly Parton's ample front porch, instant replay is threatening to be too much of a very good thing.
Worse yet is what happens after a controversial call. How about that five-minute intermission during Sunday's Giants-Eagles game? Was Eli Manning over the line when he threw? If you're over the line, aren't you over the line? Roe v. Wade didn't get that kind of scrutiny.
I have a buddy (Paul) who thinks those long, drawn-out replay challenges have truly damaged pro football, thinks they have harmed our best game in ways that flip his personal circuit breakers.
I agree. The three minutes we wait to see if Clinton Portis stepped out of bounds is the modern game at its earnest, dutiful worst.
Sportus-interruptus.
"They need to get it right," TV analyst Kirk Herbstreit tells Brent Musberger during a recent challenge, as if witnessing a new round of Middle East accords.
Quite honestly, they don't need to get it right.
The only thing they need to do is put on a fast-paced, ceaselessly entertaining two-hour game, one that is occasionally flavored by human failure among the players and the referees. That's football. That's life. It's not fair. There are no re-dos. Let's get on with it. Hike the ball.
Granted, there is a lot of weirdness in my beloved game right now. How about that long hair flowing out the back of the helmets? I saw the University of Hawaii play recently and I thought I was watching an Herbal Essence commercial. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, hold on to that handoff.
No biggie, this hair. Athletes have always had a flair for finding the next awful haircut (think Johnny Unitas or Joe Namath). Fortunately, I learned a long time ago not to take fashion cues from convicts or quarterbacks.
