The definitive list of why football and football season is actually the absolute worst

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I hate football. It is so boring.

Don’t try to convince me otherwise. I’ve given this positively awful sport a chance and there is no denying it: I would rather enter the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest on my wedding day than watch an entire football game.

If you’re like me and are sick of your Pinterest feed morphing into a cacophony of mini pretzels and chili cheese casualties come fall, feel free to pass this list along to any person who refuses to understand why you’d rather spend Saturdays and Sundays staring at a blank wall.

You have to sit outside.

Me at Harvard-Yale game, as represented by Jack Dawson

Me at the Harvard-Yale game, as represented by Jack Dawson

This is hands-down the worst thing about football — what moron came up with a fall/winter sport that takes place outside?

Fun fact: there’s a reason I don’t have a butt. Several years ago I thought I’d be “festive” and attend the Harvard-Yale football game in November. Unfortunately my ass had to be amputated after three-plus hours of sitting on the concrete bench of Harvard Stadium in -10 degree weather. Prior to this game it looked like Beyonce’s. Now it looks like a Swedish pancake.

Lesson. Learned.

Football lasts forever.

It’s the only sport where the clock keeps running when nothing is happening, but miraculously, time seems to move backwards. Whenever someone I know is watching football and they point to the clock and say, “Just five more minutes!” I start looking for two-day deals to Vegas because I know the game will still be going on when I return.

You can’t see the players’ faces.

For sports to be interesting to me, I need a human interest angle, and this usually starts with knowing what a person looks like. But football helmets strongly inhibit all facial recognition. Truthfully, I’d have an easier time identifying individual female ISIS members.

Football = day drinking in crowded bars with sweaty people.


Why you shouldn’t invite me to bars to watch football. This will be my exact attitude.

This is another argument I constantly encounter: “Well, don’t you like to day drink with people? And socialize?”

BS — that’s not what happens at bars during football games.

Accurate rundown: a bunch of guys, one of whom you probably have a crush on if you’ve bothered to show up at all, spend the day drinking 12 Hummer gas tanks worth of beer, therefore rendering them incapable of a conversation. And, even if they could have one, there is no way anything you’re going to say would tear them away from the screen. In fact, you could get naked right in front of the guy you like and he’d tell you to move because you’re blocking the view of Tony Romo picking a booger on the sidelines.

Oh, and if you actually make it through the entire game, thinking you’ll be rewarded with some attention, think again. He will be so drunk and giving off such strong buffalo wing fumes you’ll be halfway converted to lesbianism by the time he wakes up from his hangover nap.

Of course, none of this compares to the culmination of it all, the worst sporting event in history: the Super Bowl. If you’re planning to skip the most-watched event in the country, here are some reasons to cite:

The halftime show.

Football lovers always point to the halftime show as one way people like me can “get into” the game.

Here’s the truth of the matter: Super Bowl halftime shows are never anywhere near as good as people claim.

First of all, everyone acts as if whomever is performing has been in living in exile for ten years and are only emerging to celebrate the epic showdown of two teams representing cities they probably don’t live in.

“Oh my GAHHHH, Bruno Mars is playing!? Justin Timberlake?! OH MY GOD, set the DVR!”

Wait…where have you been? You are aware it’s impossible to turn on a TV or computer without learning the color of Bruno Mars’ toothbrush, right? And that Justin Timberlake was on Saturday Night Live 34 times last season?

Then again, some years the planning committee opts for a “classic band.” You know, the kind no football fan has mentioned or listened to since they ran MS DOS on their computer. Yet, as soon as the performer is announced, the entire country becomes rabid, maniacal fans–keep in mind, these are the same people who regularly listen to Imagine Dragons and Ariana Grande.

“Oh MANNN, did you see the Rolling Stones are playing this year?!?!?! Gotta go update my Facebook status!”

Next time this happens ask that person to name one member of the Rolling Stones other than Keith Richards. Crickets all around. I guarantee it.

Super Bowl commercials.

These never live up to the hype, and not because they’re not good, but because they are so hyped-up that by the time they air I’m expecting a live Budweiser Clydesdale to gallop out of the screen, into my living room and deliver a six pack.

People who know I hate the Super Bowl always ask (with an air of desperation), “Aren’t you going to at least watch for the commercials?!”

No, I’m not. At this point I’ve got the formula down: Budweiser is going to do something involving animals that’s supposed to make you cry, Old Spice is going to release a new version of the same commercial they’ve been putting out for three years, and some slutty celebrity is going to do something “controversial” with a hamburger–except it’s not really that controversial because it’s not as if Meryl Streep is naked, in a car wash, stuffing cow meat into her face.

Honestly, BuzzFeed posts illicit a stronger range of emotions than Super Bowl commercials.

In closing:

If you’re like me and couldn’t care less about America’s Game, don’t worry: there is a whole community of us outcasts. Feel free to join us at our Saturday and Sunday meet-ups, conveniently held at nail salons and Chinese restaurants across the country, where you can always count on a turned-on TV playing something…anything!…other than football.

Images and gifs via We Heart It

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Molly Fedick is a freelance writer and founder of The Eighty8. She writes a dating and relationships column and has been featured in the Huffington Post, Elite Daily, Glamour,, the official White House blog, and CosmoGirl!, among others. Molly is a graduate of Boston University and Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism, and in her spare time enjoys adding more black and white to her already entirely black and white wardrobe.