The NFL Lockout is Over and I Don't Care. Guys, Please Forgive Me.

The end of the NFL lockout means fans can finally return to … something … something … blah.

I’m really sorry, but I can’t pretend to care anymore.  

I admit it. I don’t like watching sports.   

And I know that’s why the International Council of Guys has brought me before their court in Las Vegas today.  

May it please the Council: I beg you, fellow guys, don’t revoke my Guy Membership.

I know well, that if I lose that title, I would be stuck in the Unmanly Netherworld, where I will not be manly enough to watch stuff explode, nor womanly enough to enjoy whatever it is women enjoy.

... I don’t know what women enjoy, because I’m still an Official Guy. For the moment.

Hopefully, I will stay that way. 

I fall at your feet and plead for mercy.

You know that for years I’ve tried to obey the Council’s Decrees of Being a Guy:

• You must think old, shiny cars are pretty cool. (Check)
• You must sweat and stink after even the most minor physical activity. (Double-check)
• You must believe woman are both wonderful and bizarre. (Check)
• You must watch football, basketball , baseball or some type of sport …  

And yes, Council, for years I lied and checked off that final box. But I can do so no longer.

Because I won’t hide who I am anymore.  … Also, because this column was due in less than an hour and my Real Housewives of Neptune idea needs more work.   

Before you exile me, please hear my two-part defense.

1. I played sports in high school.

Yes, I played football, soccer and baseball for an educational facility so small that we had to bring our own goal posts, referees and turf.

And I liked it. I loved the friendship and the whole “smashing the person in front of me really hard” thing. 

(I played right guard, if that means anything to the Council)

I even briefly (very briefly) considered trying out for football at my junior college, but I decided against it when I realized all the other players were ten-feet-tall and would crush me into a fine paste.

Surely that buys me some sympathy from the council.

Please, tell the bailiffs to refrain from giving me a swirly before I finish my defense!

The second tier of my defense is stronger, and with that I beg your indulgence.

2. It's no fun watching other people enjoying things I can't. 

Perhaps, Guy Leaders, I can illustrate this.

We all like watching over-the-top action movies, yes?

I can see you nodding your Exalted Beer Hat-Wearing Heads.

Well, I present to you this problem.

… Would you want to watch a man watching an action movie?  Would you sit down in a chair and look at him enjoy something that you cannot?

For me, that is what football is.

No, no! Hear me out! 

I loved playing. I don’t like watching others play.

Hopefully, you can understand and find it in your manly hearts to not shut me out of male bonding rituals just because I don’t remember the Infield Fly Rule or the different mascots or what a basketball looks like.

I had intended to keep my shameful secret just that. A secret.

But when the top searched words of Google this morning were all different sports team names, I knew I had to come forward.

Because I couldn’t write a column pretending that I am something I am not. A sports fan.

I await your decision.

Update: John Crandall was found guilty of disobeying the Decrees of Being a Guy. 

However, the council saw fit to extend mercy on his behalf. Instead of revoking his Guy Membership, they subjected him to 18 hours of judicial wedgies.

Give John Crandall a Dollar publishes on Wednesdays at 7 p.m. and Saturdays at 1 p.m. and is not ready for some football.