Broncos Football

Some years, I can ignore the Broncos, and I'm perfectly happy. Other years, I watch the games and go crazy with frustration. There's something about watching your team get a big lead and then blow it that leads to premature aging, elevated blood pressure, and a truncated vocabulary containing far too many words that would be abridged from any decent dictionary.

The good news about this season is that it'll probably only take one or two more games before it becomes obvious that the first three Broncos victories were due to odd planetary alignments and/or Vegas oddsmakers' manipulation rather than the talent level of the team. Disparage my Colorado loyalties if you must, but I'm thinking that this is about a .500 team, and one not destined for the playoffs. I guess we'll see, won't we?

It's not so bad when I can accomplish other things while the game is going on. If I can do laundry, balance my checkbook, or fix a flat bike tire while watching, well, I can still feel productive. It's the days when I become engrossed in the game and remain glued to the couch when I feel like I've completely wasted my day. Weekends are a precious commodity not to be squandered...is watching a bunch of large bruisers smack into each other really the best use of my precious free time? Do I really get that much enjoyment from watching a bunch of predominately orange millionaires allowing their opponents to catch pass after pass, so that the game's outcome is decided by some lucky fluke during the last minute or two?

This weekend (if I don't have to work), I'm planning to go to a party on Sunday. (Well, both Saturday and Sunday, actually. But Saturday's party is in the evening, and has no NFL impact associated with it.) If there are TVs or radios present during the festivities on Sunday, well, so be it -- I suppose I can absorb some of the game's details while I socialize. But I have made a conscious decision not to let Broncomania (or any of its viral offshoots, like Cutler Pneumonia or the Brandon Marshall flu) rule my life this fall. Even if the team does keep winning.

And anyway, the next few weekends present the last chances to see the fall colors for the year. From what I've heard, the aspens are spectacular this season, and the hills are practically glowing from all the hues left over from chlorophyll's annual hibernation. I'd really like to get up there to ooh and ahh and take some photos to send to my unfortunate relatives who still live in colorless Kansas.

Oh well, it's probably moot, since I'm working on a proposal -- and nothing warms a proposal manager's heart like ruining an editor's weekend. (If you've never met one, think "Grinch", only with 52 opportunities to steal the roast beast every year. The only creature born with higher levels of innate cruelty is the Government Procurement Officer, who takes great delight in scheduling due dates immediately following holidays -- thereby ensuring that we poor working slobs never get to eat turkey, eggnog, or chocolate bunnies...at least not when they're fresh.)

If by some chance, though, I do manage to escape into the mountains during the next couple of weekends, I shall be sure to provide a report for anyone who cannot break their Broncos addiction and winds up sitting on a sofa instead of savoring the season. In either case, I see no harm in saying this:

Go Broncos! Beat the Chiefs!