Autumn. Football season. For years and years. Most, well, as long as I can remember of my life. That’s adult or otherwise. Autumn meant the beginning of the football season. Playing and watching. Then, once I was in high school, cross country. Autumn was the time to wake up the echos at Notre Dame Stadium and Lambeau Field. SEC football. Those first two hold true. Now, as much college, and good college football as possible. To win and live, lose or die with those favorite teams and fantasy picks. Well, fuck the fantasy picks. That’s just extra fluff to make it fun. Whip cream on the pie. Over the last year, since the start of the “plandemic,” it’s also time for something else. A new love. No, not Halloween and the lost art of the Halloween special. Of that and those, I’ve always been a fan. I mean the “hillbilly” Southern sport. Not pro wrestling, as I used to enjoy it, and it went all year. I mean auto racing. In particular, NASCAR. The trucks, second series, and the “big boys” on Sunday. Autumn births the start of football season, and the end of NASCAR, but in a good way. A new sport, a new season gets under way, and NASCAR, all three tiers, end their regular season. It’s playoff time on the race tracks of America. Unlike other sports, everyone still competes, and tries to get the checkered flag pass to victory lane, if they can. Autumn stands as the “harvest season,” and NASCAR starts to harvest the best of the best to crown a champion for each of their three tiers. Notre Dame, the whole realm of college football, Green Bay, and the NASCAR playoffs. Cooling weather and the changing colors of the landscape in the Virginia mountains. What a time it is, and I’ll take it. For good, bad, and hopefully, not too ugly.
Copyright © Drew Martin 2021