Don’t Fear Pink

detailOkay. When you hear the word “pink”, what do you think of? Girls? Guys?

Girls usually think of girl babies, Barbie doll outfits, ribbons, shirts. Guys usually think of sissy things.

Why is that?

I have to admit that when I first think of pink, I think it a girl’s color. That is my old-fashioned, Catholic school, 50’s upbringing. I’m sure that’s the same problem guys have, too.

Moms in the millennium are a lot more savvy than that. While manufacturers don’t go out of their way to make pink clothes for boys, once they get into their teens, there’s always a pink dress shirt here or there to set off their wardrobe.

But still many people are gender-sensitive when it comes to that one particular color. Sometimes to the point of over-reaction.

Take the NFL, for instance.

They make a big deal of football players wearing pink during October for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Accents of shades from fluorescent to carnation to cherry blossom can be found tastefully decorating gloves, sides of shoes, and towels. But once October is done, pfffftttt….so is pink.

Pittsburgh Steelers running back DeAngelo Williams wants to wear pink past the October 31 deadline. His mother died of breast cancer, as did four of his aunts. This is his way of saluting their battles.

Of course, the NFL said no. October only. No exceptions.

Now, I know mostly why the NFL is so staunch about its rulings. After all, one player will want to wear Nikes with a pink streak; before you know it, someone else will want blue and someone will want yellow and it will be a color war beyond imagination. You let one do it, you have to let everyone do it.

Who knows — what if this “pink” thing took off? What if in November someone on the Patriots wore a pink towel, then in December, someone on the Bears wore pink gloves? Would that distract from the game? From the point spread?

There are no rules about hair color. Or beards. So I guess guys dying their hair pink or green is okay by them. But a memorial to a death from Breast Cancer — something we all are fighting — that’s a little too “girly” for  them.

I’m not saying they should change the rules for the NFL. Or any other sport or corporate venue. But this is breast cancer. And breast cancer doesn’t stop growing at the end of October. Someone wants to wear a token color to let the world know they support the cause — I don’t see what’s wrong with that.

But then again, I’m a girl. And I’ve had breast cancer.

All I’m saying is it’s time the world stopped fearing the color pink.

If you fear being judged by the color of your gloves or shoes or headband, then you have a lot more wrong with you than a phobia of a color.

Go Pink!

It’s That Time. Again.

s-l1000It’s here.

The end…and the beginning.

Here, during the prime Dog Days of August, it has snuck in quietly, bringing legions of supporters with it. A force to be reckoned with. Its shield reflects the colors of whatever region it calls home, the supporters wild and crazy, ranging in age from 5 to 95. And once it has taken hold, it doesn’t budge until the Ice Days of January.

Football is Back.

Dyed-in-the-wool hardcore fans  say that these first three pre-season games don’t count. That teams are whittling down 75-80 combatants to a mere 53. Try telling that to diehards who have waited 192 days, 30 hours, and upteen minutes and booga upteen seconds to be able to wear their jerseys again.

I should have sensed it coming.

The first indication of the season to come was an increased selection of bratwursts and beer. Football jerseys and shirts of every shape and size called out from the front rows of Walmart and Target. Invites to Football Fantasy leagues filled e-mail boxes all over the country.

Yet I wanted to bask in the sun and laziness of Summer for just a little longer. Fight the mosquitoes just a little longer. Try to go to sleep while it’s still light out.

But I was denied.

Today was the clincher. It was declared “Packer Casual Day” at work.

I was afloat in a sea of green, my little navy number 6 a chuckle to the masses. I survived pretty well, holding up my end of the football spectrum as well as I could. I live in  Packer country, you see, where Bears are eaten for breakfast. Silly carnivores…

Football fans of all ages and locations begin to shout at their TVs during the pre-games just as a warmup of things to come. As if the announcers, coaches, and players could hear them. Who knows — maybe on some cosmic level they can. And most times it’s not pretty. Football fans know that technically we are all equal during the first pre-season game — that we all start from zero. But they will also point out that some teams are more zero than others.

It’s not that I have a dislike for Fall — or football. I love them both. But somehow the thought of people sitting in the stands, watching players who will soon be just a name on a piece of paper, the heat at a swell 90 degrees — well, I can think of better places to spend my Dog Days. Like at the beach.

In my house, the blam bang of tackles and missed tackles and stupid calls from coaches and snide remarks from announcers will bounce off the walls from Thursday through Sunday night from now until January. That’s plenty of chaos for me.

Until then, I think I’ll play it cool. Very cool. I’ll just watch the pre-season games in my air conditioned house.

That way no one can hear me screaming at the TV. Stupid refs…

Go Bears!