Catching the Spirit Anonymous

I don't try to deny it. I hate football. Or rather, in stereotypical female fashion, I simply don't understand it. I never bothered to learn because it just didn't appeal to me. So when my brother handed me a ticket to the 86th Rose Bowl game, I looked at it, then told him to have a good time. After all, he actually likes football.

"No," he laughed. "It's for you. I want you to come."

Now it was my turn to laugh. What was I going to do at a football game?

After much convincing, though, I agreed to go. I figured my arguments against the game would be stronger if I could say that I actually went to one, and hated it.

And so it happened that I - the one who organized anti-Superbowl parties (complete with a sit-down dinner and a stack of romance movies) - ended up at the Stanford-Wisconsin game last year.

Don't get me wrong. I love sports. I've played tennis, softball and volleyball since elementary school and I love my Lakers. But I never seemed to quite get the hang of football.

Walking among the 80,000 people at the Rose Bowl that January afternoon, I felt like I was going to drown in a Red Sea. I knew I should at least try to enjoy myself, since the game was three hours long, but...