Football.
It’s back.
Sort of—or not quite—but maybe?
I watched the NFL draft on Thursday night, April 23rd. Actually, I half-watched it— which, unless you're a football fanatic, is really the most that much of us can muster. It’s only the alpha among us--and they’ll let you know who they are--who really know something about every player chosen.
In 2015, Bob Thode, my father, tried to half-watch the NFL draft. 88 years old and with mild dementia, he was living in assisted living at a senior facility in New Jersey. My stepmother Judy lived in a nearby apartment in independent living and in normal times, they’d spend the day together. But in 2015, the facility was hit with a norovirus and my father was quarantined for several days in his room. To keep him occupied, the staff put the TV in his room on ESPN and the NFL Draft. Alone in his room for several days with no visitors and no Judy, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell and the ESPN crew were my father’s only real contact with the outside world.
I was able to visit my father that Saturday but I had to wear a mask. By that point, the draft was in the later rounds, but it was still playing on his TV. Every time there was an alert with word that a pick had been made or a trade reported, my father would literally shush me down. He had no idea who the players were, but he was really trying to follow along and somehow make sense of it all. Sara remembers that I came home from that visit very sad. It’s was hard to see my father like that. With the current coronavirus ravaging and isolating the elderly, it’s a bittersweet memory—tinged with regret and remorse yet relief that he’s not around for this. It was also his last NFL Draft—not that he was a big football fan--he certainly was not. He died in March, 2016. Confused though he was and half-watching as he could, the NFL draft now makes me think about my father in a whole new way.
Visiting my father in 2015 after a norovirus outbreak at his senior facility
Bob Thode watching the NFL Draft in 2015
Which brings me back to half-watching the draft myself on Thursday night. I was working from home in my office/guest bedroom. I switched the TV from MSNBC to ESPN, but turned the volume off. I worked on my laptop, following the draft by watching TV, reading the closed captioning and checkingTwitter.
The whole draft was virtual with Goodell in his basement. (It was a really nice basement.) Live cameras were in the homes of the top 60 college players likely to be chosen in the first round. Would-be NFL players are big. Most sat with their families on giant sofas.
In the virtual draft, we discovered that NFL coaches are people too. It was great seeing coaches, usually so intense on the sidelines, in their dens, many with their kids hanging out with their father--who yes--was picking players for his real-life NFL team. The son of the Miami Dolphins head coach was a special treat. (When writing this Friday, I went looking for images of the kids watching their dads during the draft, but I couldn’t find them on the Twitter.)
Twitter was consumed with three things. The first was the luxurious home of the Arizona Cardinals coach, Kliff Kingsbury. He clearly had learned the lesson of every TV pundit in the last month. When people look at you, they see everything behind you.
And then there was the home of Tennessee Titans coach Mike Vrabel. There’s nothing like having teenage sons and their friends goofing around in the house—and nothing like having grown-up teenagers goofing around on Twitter.
Vrabel had to issue a statement after the draft. Per the Titans, his son was seen in the background, but he was leaning over a bar stool, sitting next to his mother.
Finally, Twitter seemed to focus on the fact that Dave Gettleman, the General Manager of the New York Giants, wore a mask. When users pointed out that he was a cancer survivor, I could not help but wonder if people still don’t understand the purpose of masks for the general public. They don’t protect you from getting infected by others----they protect you from infecting others.
When Goodell announced each team’s picks, he did so in front of a video wall with fans from that team “gathered” and cheering separately--though virtually--together.
Of course, the whole NFL Draft is about promise. What will these drafted players do if and when they make it to the NFL? Who will be the stars? Who will be the duds?
At this point, without a vaccine, it’s hard—really hard—to see how we get to the point where there are actual NFL games in September. Televised games in near-empty stadiums with perhaps a smattering of staff, family and fans, all maintaining socially distance (not 6 feet apart, but for football, 2 yards between them)?
I don’t know, but I liked the NFL Draft.
Even just half-watching virtual fans, I liked the cheering.
I liked the drama of not knowing what teams might do.
Most of all, I liked the promise that things might one day be back to normal.
What did NOT happen?
A. One of the parents of Betsy’s students found out about the quiz when I posted an Instagram video of Betsy doing a virtual Pledge of Allegiance for her school in Quiz #33. The Pledge;
B. I posted Quiz #34. Brooks late on Wednesday night. It’s the first quiz that I posted without edits from Sara. (She was asleep and I wanted to post it on time.) She told me the next morning, it was the best one yet. Why? Because it was honest and flowing more naturally than the others;
C. I posted Quiz #35. Odd before finishing up work Thursday night. Moments later, I heard Sara burst out laughing from the next room and she came into my office/guest bedroom. I had not included a caption beneath our wedding photo in the post—and the heading for the next section looked like the photo caption. Beneath our photo, the caption seemed to read “Oxymorons.” In trying to save the screengrab of “Oxymorons” (which has since been updated with a caption and photo credit to our friend Lori, @lorifleissner_photography), Sara uploaded the image to a shared site for pictures of our granddaughter, Turner;
D. Ted texted me on Friday morning, “As daily quiz readers, we don’t need constant reminders of what has been featured in past quizzes. The fans want fresh material!”
E. Annie texted me on Friday morning to remind me to keep things light in the quiz—and to tell me that I did not need to mention her place of employment in every quiz. I promised her that I would “try;”
Want the answer?
Answer to Quiz #35. Promises, Promises April 24, 2020
If you’re a subscriber, the answer will be sent to you as a separate email when the question is published.
Want more?
Here’s the next quiz in the series: Quiz #37. “Don’t Be Cruel.”
Here’s the previous quiz in the series: Quiz #35. Odd.
Here’s the first quiz in the series: Quiz #1. Stella and Social Distancing, March 13, 2020
Here is an archive of all the quizzes.
The quiz is explained here: Steve’s Stay-at-Home Coronavirus Quiz.
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Comments, corrections and confessions welcome.
Thank you and good night.
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