How Its Been To Not Watch Football

“Baseball is a 19^th century pastoral game. Football is a 20^th century technological struggle…. In football, the object is for the quarterback—otherwise known as the field general—to be on target with his aerial assault, riddling the defense by hitting his receivers with deadly accuracy, in spite of the blitz, even if he has to use the shotgun. With short bullet passes and long bombs he marches his troops into enemy territory, balancing his aerial assault with a sustained ground attack which punches holes in the forward wall of the enemy’s defensive line.”

-George Carlin on Baseball and Football

Before this NFL season began, I decided to stop watching football.

I had spent the previous twenty seasons being a devoted Oakland Raiders fan.

So how has it been not watching football after all these years of fandom?

Even though the Raiders are 9-2 and currently #2 in ESPN’s NFL Power Rankings—which is fucking remarkable!—I do not miss watching football at all. Half a year ago, when I was still talking myself into giving up what had been my favorite sport for decades, I would have been surprised to imagine myself saying that. It’s been weird not watching, though. Although I was unaware when the first week of the regular season began, which was a delightful surprise, once I knew that the season was on, it was strange being at home on Sunday during those first weeks of the regular season between the hours of 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. PST and not once turning on the television to watch a game or snippets of its coverage. I also felt a bit aimless, and, yet, at the same time, free to plot how else I would like to spend the day. Now that I’ve gotten used to not tuning into the games, I no longer have that I-feel-like-something-is-amiss feeling on Sundays, but I have continued to feel unburdened in not having my day tethered to a Raiders game, or another contest that looked like it would be a great matchup.  

Now that I no longer want to support the National Football League—a reprehensible sports organization that is the only one I can think of that can sit at the same table with FIFA—I’ve become acutely aware of just how prevalent it is in our American society. I see a shit-ton of articles all over the interwebs about football, especially fantasy football. I notice advertisements everywhere: at bars. Stores. My former gym. All the license plate frames in which people stake a claim to their chosen football tribe. If you’re out and about on the town on a Saturday or Sunday during this time of the year, it’s challenging to find a TV that is not showing a college or NFL game. Football is God in AmeriKKKa. And stadiums across this land are like national shrines come Sunday.

For the most part—sans necessary cyclical life errands (like washing my dirty chonies, or gathering & buying groceries)—Sundays feel like free days for me now. My daily rhythms aren’t noosed to the NFL’s schedule. Making time to write on Sundays is no longer the weekly, regimented struggle it had been in years past. My wife has appreciated the change, too, because now her Sunday rhythms aren’t also tied to the NFL’s schedule since I no longer hover about our living room for significant portions of the day watching a barrage of commercials and a sport she never took a liking to, despite my interventions. (Two years ago, I tried my darndest to teach Mari some basics of the sport, such as the difference between a 4-3 and 3-4 defensive alignment, and the names of the various positions—but we found it wasn’t so simple to explain. Not like soccer. Or basketball. Or even hockey.)

Perhaps most significantly, I’m not reading as much about football like I used to when I was a fan. Last season, I once remarked to Mari that what I probably most liked about football was reading and listening about it: the post-game analysis.; the pre-game analysis; and the podcast debates and discussions about football. But what I really fucking loved was devouring all the statistics, all goddamn season long. Even though I haven’t watched one game this entire season, I am still reading about football. Not nearly as much as before, though. Last year, I wrapped up most of my Sundays, for nearly half of the year, reading for an hour or more about all the NFL games—and that would bleed into Mondays with the updated Power Rankings on various sites and the subsequent lengthy articles from my favorite NFL writers (Barnwell! Mike Silver! Tim Kawakami!) Not reading about football has been harder to completely forsake, especially when it comes to the Raiders. On Sundays, while I’m writing (or trying to write), I still periodically click onto ESPN’s website to glimpse at the scores for their games (and other contests). I often click on the box scores to inhale some player stats. It’s hard to shut off the valve that followed one team for twenty years, even through many, many shittastic seasons. It’s not like that allegiance has dissipated; I’m just no longer okay with watching these mighty men—some of whom I had grown to admire (I’m thinking of you, Junior Seau, and Thurman Thomas)—irreparably destroy their minds, their lives, their bodies—and their families—for my entertainment.

Random Shit I Learned in Chicago & New York City

I had a recent trip to Chicago and New York City and learned a few things about both cities:

• Both Midway and O’Hare Airports are connected to the city’s above-ground train system. A ride from Midway to downtown Chi-town cost $2.25. I say, good for you, Chicago! Fucking BART charges a whole lot more from either SFO or OAK. (AirBART to the Coliseum station alone is six fucking dollars.)

• You can easily see the Willis Tower or Hancock Center once you board a Brown line train from Midway. That’s how gargantuan those buildings are. From afar, the Willis Tower inevitably makes me think of the Tower of Sauron. And, of course, I’m not the only one who has had this thought:

The Blue Towel

Back in 1984, at the beginning of the school year, my kindergarten teacher gave us a note to hand to our parents. It asked them to provide us with a towel to use for our daily afternoon naps. Two years before, my family had moved to a suburb of Orlando from Guadalajara, Mexico. My mother couldn’t speak much English. Her reading skills weren’t so great either. She read the note and thought the towel was for drying our hands. And so, she bought this towel for me. It is just over 2 feet long by 1 ^1/3 feet wide. She stitched my name on a corner, and I took it to class.

One day, near the end of the school year, my mom came early to pick me up. She came right after lunchtime when my classmates were sprawled out across the air-conditioned classroom, listening to soft lullabies for our naptime. I was curled up on the floor, resting my head on the blue hand towel, while my classmates slept on top of their towels. That’s when my mother realized what it was meant for. She felt awful, seeing my little body resting directly over the floor. 

When we left the classroom, she asked me in Spanish, “Why didn’t you tell me you needed a bigger towel?” My mom told me I looked up at her, then away, before I shrugged and said, “I don’t know. It’s okay.”

Many years later, I still recognize myself in that moment.

I hope I will never lose this towel and the story it contains.

self-portrait with blue towel, 2016

Top 10 Favorite Music Videos from the 1980s (Part II)

Here's my top five music videos from the 80s:


5. Judas Priest “Breaking the Law” (1980)

Why I Love This Video:

Rob Halford has hair! I like the shot of him in the backseat of the car dramatically delivering his lines. This shit could be out straight out of a Spanish soap opera.

When Judas Priest storms the bank totting the guitar cases like guns. It's a fun and cheesy touch. Plus, I love the symbolism. Like Def Leppard’s “Rock of Ages” as well as one of the songs in my honorable mention, the rock guitar overtly symbolizes a weapon. In “Breaking the Law,” their music is akin to the truth that the strata of conservative, older British citizens didn’t want to accept about the social problems tied to their youth and lack of employment opportunities. The shattering of the man’s glasses at the 0:48 mark alludes to that, methinks. 

I love how the band is basically delivering a sermon about youth angst tied to unemployment. “Breaking the Law” finds the young rock gods railing against authority, against conformity. This is rock ‘n’ roll at its root—or at least what it should be. 

When Halford holds up the gold record and shatters the security cameras between the 1:37 – 1:42 mark.

It’s kind of thrilling when the band piles into the car for the getaway just before the guitar solo. It looks like it was fun to film.  

The shot of Halford and the band playing in the back of a car on the freeway (or whatever they call them in Britain) is pretty fucking cool. That’s no green-screen-studio shot! This is raw. This is rock distilled.

Favorite Part:

When the sleepy guard—the video’s supposed authority figure, infected and perverted by the shattering spirit of rock—picks up a cardboard cutout of a Jackson V guitar and proceeds to execute what might possibly be the cheesiest and awesomest air guitar solo committed to film. For me, the absolute delightful peak of the song is seeing him rock out to the Priest. 

Top 10 Favorite Music Videos from the 1980s (Part I)

Launched in 1981, MTV quickly helped to shape our popular culture with their music video programming. The 1980s churned out a number of outstanding and bizarre videos. Here’s my top-10 favorite videos from that era.

10. Rick James “Super Freak” (1981)

What’s a top-10 list of 80s music videos without one from Rick James? A piss-poor one, I say!

Why I Love This Video:

Rick James’ smile and wink at the beginning of the video; he was a dirty, charismatic motherfucker.

His glittery vest—or is it a blouse?—is fucking amazing. You know Marie Antoinette would have loved that shit.

From an aesthetic standpoint, I think the stark white background was a great choice. It’s a simple backdrop but it allows everyone to stand out in close-up shots no matter what color their skin is. (And it works great with the group shots, too.)

The scene of Rick in the back of the limousine with his ladies starting at the 1:44 mark. It looks like a mobile plain of heaven. (The boy from Buffalo, NY, did well!)

The way Rick James wields his big white bass like it’s an extension of his dick. (And man, that bass looks regally sweet.)

The cutaway to an archival clip of The Temptations is nifty.

Favorite Part:

The lewd tongue lick at the 2:09 mark when he sings “I’d really like to taste her” is pure Rick James; in a way, he was a part of the musical-sexual evolution bands like The Kinks started in the 1960s with songs like “You Really Got Me” and “All Day and All of the Night.”

Bring on Free Agency (My Thoughts on the Warriors offseason)

Game 7 aftermath

The Finals ended, and we lost. But I’m not ready to let go of basketball just yet, especially with free agency looming!

The celebratory smell of champagne and spilled tequila is probably still wafting in the visitor’s locker room at Oracle, but two delicious rumors have already reverberated around the Warriors. First, of course, is that Kevin Durant’s supposed interest in springing from Oklahoma City to join our team. ESPN’s Chris Broussard’s reporting that Durant’s decision is likely a two-horse race between the Warriors and Thunder is incredibly exciting.

Long before the Warriors lost in the Finals, there already was speculation that Golden State could become Durantula’s free agency destination if he left the only NBA franchise he has ever played for. Back then, I didn’t like the idea. It seemed too risky. I also thought one of the things that made our team so potent was our depth. But after we crumbled in the Finals, my opinion on the matter has changed. Back then, I wasn’t keen on the possibility of losing some significant contributors off our bench to bring his max contract onboard, but I think the Finals showed us—amongst many things—that the ultimate outcome will likely come down to the strength of each team’s best 7-8 players, not the entire roster. Over a seven-game series, Cleveland’s best three players—LeBron, Kyrie and Tristan Thompson (who I like to call “Fetch” because fetching offensive rebounds is his only elite skill)—simply outplayed Curry, Green and Klay Thompson just enough to win it all.

Unless Miami significantly upgrades their talent in the offseason—like adding Kevin Durant—we all know LeBron, Kyrie and their supporting cast will be back in the Finals because they play in the Eastern Conference. We can expect them to have an easier road to the Finals again. This year, the Cavs played three less games than the Warriors before they met in the Finals. It’s not an excuse, but I think that extra wear was one of many factors in our collapse. So if we can upgrade our starting lineup, our top-tier talent by adding a once-in-a-generation player, I think our chances are significantly improved if we met again in the Finals. Plus, signing Durant would seriously deplete one of our strongest opponents.

So I’m all in on the Durant sweepstakes now. I still think it’s unlikely we’ll add KD, especially after last night’s trade in which Oklahoma City fleeced Orlando to upgrade their shooting guard position, but it shouldn’t stop us from doing our best to sign him.

And so, who would I be willing to part with from our pool of eight restricted and unrestricted free agents? Here’s my list:

Interview: Allison Allbee

My homegirl, Allison Allbee, is a coworker of mine at ChangeLab Solutions. Born and raised in San Francisco, Allie graduated from UC Santa Cruz with a degree in community studies and received concurrent master’s degrees in building science and city planning from UC Berkeley. She conducts research, develops tools, and works with communities around the greater San Francisco Bay Area and beyond to improve their health and well-being through city and regional planning policies. Besides planning, Allie is also a fellow shutterbug and has a great talent for making yummy food (which occasionally makes my tummy happy when she bequeaths us with office treats).

A few weeks ago, we grabbed some lunch and headed out to the Kaiser Center Roof Garden for a chat. This is what went down:

JUAN: My first sort of ridiculous question—and hopefully my only ridiculous question—is do urban planners play SimCity?

ALLIE: I don’t know. I have no idea. I don’t.

JUAN: You’ve heard of it then?

ALLIE: I’ve heard of it. But I also don’t play video games, and so I don’t think people talk to me about them.