Though I’ve never really concerned myself with understanding the particulars of the game, I can honestly say I love to watch football. I like the sounds of football: the curt shouts, the knocking about of helmets, the referee whistles, the stadium roars. I like the stories of football: because there are so few games per team per season, every matchup has great potential for drama. I like the psychology of football: the way an offense can be forced to pass when it wants to run, or run when it wants to pass; the suicidal expressions of kickers who’ve just missed a potentially game-winning field goal; the Roman-gladiator-victorious-style celebrations after sacks, interceptions, touchdowns.
But you know what I best about football, better than all these things combined?
The pure, unadulterated man-candy.