Sheer, utter genius:
As America sits, in the snow, tired, and perhaps hungry—not for change, anymore, but hungry perhaps for optimism, or hungry to once again love and respect and feel warmly toward our on-air talent—what do they really want, besides a rest, for a bit? I think they want to watch professional football on a Saturday. Snowy professional football. And, I think, they are wary of digital satellites.
When I was a girl, America watched football for free. President Kennedy told us to be proud of our Founding Fathers, our moral courage, our free market of ideas, and as he instructed us to look to the stars, America received football from the sky, with rabbit ears and pride. Sometimes we drove cars and listened to football. I wonder—have you listened to football, in a car, recently? Has anyone? Did we lose something, as a country, when we stopped listening to football? I think so, sometimes. But some didn't. Some still do.
Growing up without a TV, I listened to football on the radio a lot as a kid. I now listen to MNF on radio 'cuz I have stuff to do after work. Sure, it's Kevin Harlan and Boomer Esiason, not Jack Buck and Hank Stram (or Pete Gross and Steve Raible for that matter) but it does make me smile.
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