Superbowl commercial rant

Please bear with me while I rant a little.  It's my blog so I DO get to gripe, right? Anyway, I just saw that VISA commercial for the twentieth time...you know the one, that ubiquitous ad where the old guys brag that they've been to every Superbowl since the first one.  One guy even admits that he's missed weddings, births of children, and birthdays, but never a Superbowl.  Really tugs on the ol' heart strings. To me this is offensive on several levels. 

First, it glorifies a negative part of sports and that is the obsessive fan. C'mon, really??... this is the most inspiring story VISA could come up with to pitch their cards??   It's guys like these that bring out all the sports haters, those people who think sports are only a contrived media tool to reward greedy team owners, bratty overpaid athletes, and all those who jump on their coattails to cash in on their fortune and fame.  It's a sad, cynical view and one, that while I understand, don't subscribe to.  As a father of boys, I am exposed to the positive side of sports, (which I believe is much more widespread), and that is that sports is an opportunity for kids (and adults) to learn skills which will carry over into adulthood.  Skills like sharing, teamwork, following directions, respect for others, discipline, learning how to lose and be a good sport, playing fair, and so on.  Last time I looked, Playstation or the Wii don't exactly relay any of those.  Sports get kids off the couch, out of spectator-mode and onto the the playing field.  As my cousin said on FB - Hooray sports! 

Second, while I don't know the real story behind these four old guys.  For all I know, they are only paid actors and the stories aren't even real. But for the sake of argument, let's assume their stories are real.  Now maybe, these guys are great husbands and fathers and grandfathers the rest of the year, and they just happen to have this one thing that brings them back together every year. I mean, a guy getting together with his pals is a good thing and I'm not frowning upon that.  I get together with some friends about once a month for poker and a beer.  But if I miss a game, no big deal.  I think this is where the commercial ceases to be inspiring and begins to become pathetic. This annual Superbowl trip somewhere became an obsession that none was willing to let go.  It makes for a good story, but I wonder what things look like if we did a little deeper.  I wonder if we see disappointed sons, angry wives, wounded daughters...just so Dad could make the game and not end the "streak."  I could be wrong, but I bet I'm not.

Lastly, it glorifies something about our country that really annoys me (and I think it may be truer for men), and that's that we must have a hobby.  I look around at the men I know and I see more men pouring their time, money, and resources into empty, time-consuming, worthless causes.  Time, money, and resources that they could have been investing into their wives and kids.  I know this for a fact because I was one of them. I had a garage full of woodworking equipment that got used once a month, if that.  I say "had" because I just sold the last piece of equipment two weeks ago. (Do I hear a chorus of angels or is that my wife rejoicing?)  Now, let me emphasize quickly.  I AM NOT AGAINST HOBBIES. I play guitar, I putter around the house, I write a blog.  These are my hobbies.  I am; however, not obsessed with them.  I was obsessive about the woodworking hobby - and here's the kicker - I didn't even enjoy it that much. I discovered that the things I gravitated toward naturally were playing my guitar, writing, cooking (when Stacy lets me), and playing with my kids.  It never occurred to me that I was feeling guilty because I would play with my boys (what I really wanted to do) instead of building a shelf (what I thought I wanted to do, but really just felt like I SHOULD do)  So I made the decision to simplify my life, get rid of the equipment, and spend my time with those things that I actually enjoy.   My wife and kids (and me) are much happier.