A Common Pornography: A Memoir

Monday Mornings

I was addicted to football statistics.

Every Sunday during football season I would jump up and down and yell at the television.

Then, on Monday mornings, I would sprint the two blocks to the newspaper machines at the post office. My dog, Scooter, would lope alongside me and I pretended he was a linebacker trying to tackle me. I’d always bought a USA Today or a Seattle Post-Intelligencer because they had the best stats; I’d cut them out and later add them up during my first-period class. I never liked the Seattle Seahawks because I had an unexplainable dislike for local teams. My favorite football team was the St. Louis Cardinals (who later became the Arizona Cardinals). Picking my favorite team as a kid was mostly based on who had the coolest helmet. I liked the profiled cardinal head and the dark red of their uniforms. All my friends liked the other popular teams of the seventies—the Cowboys, Steelers, and Chargers. The Cleveland Browns didn’t have anything on their helmets. I couldn’t fathom why anyone would like them.

As I ran back home I would imagine myself as a wiry punt returner like Terry Metcalf or a powerful running back like Ottis “OJ” Anderson. My dog was actually named after Ottis Anderson. I had heard that Ottis had the nickname Scooter when he was younger.

The newspaper in my hand turned into a football and I would dodge tacklers, set records, and make highlights that would never be shown.