As anyone who knows me can attest, I was born without the male sports gene. I like baseball (I even like going to games) but sports, in general, fails to grab me in the way that cause me anxiety if I can’t watch NFL games on Sunday (to wit, I’m driving to Palm Springs tomorrow to choose our new puppy!!!). (Yep, there’s that silly missing chromosome thing again).
So, I was at school today, participating in a rather great class in my television course (a working AD — from the late SIX FEET UNDER — came and walked the class through the actual blocking and set-up and shooting of a scene) and, as I was leaving, I walked through the lobby with the Big Ole Television Set, which was set to the USC/Notre Dame game. Notre Dame had just scored with two minutes left in the game and the crowd was going insane.
So, I hop in the car to listen to the unbelievable ending to the game and had to pull over to the side to listen as USC won with a touchdown in the last seven seconds, after the Notre Dame fans had been misled by a non-stopped game clock to think that they had won.
I’m still going to Palm Springs tomorrow, but I did feel a bit of either that missing gene or USC Trojan spirit in there.