I watch a lot of football. Well, I multi-task by pecking on the laptop or filing my nails, but I usually pay attention to the game.
But I have some sort of defect in my grey matter that comes to light only during NFL games because I cannot for the life of me remember which quarterback goes with which team unless I’m watching them play. There is one exception: Peyton Manning who’s with the Indianapolis Colts. I saw him scene-steal as a guest host of Saturday Night Live a few years ago before I had ever paid much attention to his day job. I recognize the other guys on sight: Mark Sanchez, Ben Roethlisberger, Drew Brees, Tom Brady. I like to do my own colour commentary. “That Tony Romo. Broke Jessica Simpson’s heart!” But away from the TV and on a non-game-day, I couldn’t match the QB to his team to save my life.
This must be a part of evolution. Why would I, as the pelt-tanning, mammoth-cooking woman in the cave, need to know that Grog is the fastest runner during the hunt? I wouldn’t. But I’d develop the knowledge that sabre-toothed tiger skin makes the best rainwear and that elk hoofs, buffed to a high sheen, look appealing when hung in threes on the cave wall. This is the only explanation I can come up with although it doesn’t explain why many, many women are able to recall the details that I cannot. Different speeds of evolutions I suppose. Mine must be stuck in first gear!