Greetings from Guam
By James P. Healy
swimguam@kuentos.guam.net

"Football combines the two worst things about America: It is violence punctuated by committee meetings." - George F. Will (b. 1941), political columnist

I would be labeled what most people consider the macho jock-type; one of the guys, hammer, nails, power tools, ballet, fast cars, fire, the World Wrestling Federation, Oprah, and loud Rock-n-Roll music. But life doesn't get any better than the partaking of beer, Doritos, and kielbasa, with my bridge group on Superbowl Sunday. Ahhh...the fond memories of days gone by.

It would seem that living on Guam has transformed me from a hyper and crazed sports fanatic, into a laid-back, nature-worshipping poet and yoga instructor. Guam has that affect on most people from New York. I have been here for two Superbowls and have not seen either one (no, I'm not in jail...yet). I have watched a whopping two Notre Dame football games in the last two years, which, in our family, is considered sacrilegious! I have gone totally AWOL in regards to my beloved Buffalo Bills. (I hope Jim Kelly had a good season.)

The problem is that all the major sporting events that are carried live, air at some un-Godly hour here. And in the case of the Superbowl - Superbowl Sunday - it's Superbowl Monday morning here. Yipee! Party down, dude! I've had a hard time getting into the spirit of the Big Game. There is something about coffee, corn flakes, and beer that just doesn't fit.

Every year, there are rumors about an island-wide holiday on Superbowl Monday. Judging from the number of kids in my classes and the sparse traffic this past Monday, this might not be a bad idea. All the hotels, restaurants, and bars offer all kinds of specials. One place was advertising Miller Lites on special for $3! Man, what a deal, kind of makes me want to take up drinking again - I feel so cheated.

Unofficial national island holiday or not, many do take the day off and watch the game live. It is re-played again around 6 p.m. (You try to teach at a school with 2,000 students - ah, make that 1,500 on Superbowl Monday - and not hear about the final outcome of the game. It is next to impossible. Mike Tyson has a better chance of winning a Pulitzer Prize.)

I tried last year to avoid hearing about the final outcome of the game and failed miserably. Last year, a fellow teacher and friend from Wisconsin (big Packers fan) wore industrial ear plugs all day - to no avail. This year, I tried again. I put signs up around the door to my room and on the chalkboard that instructed the students to not mention the game at all. (On top of that, as students were entering my class I stuck my fingers in my ears and sang "La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la.......")

The kids were really good about it, until my last class of the day. A student came in wearing a Denver Broncos Jersey and began to high five the other eleven students - out of a class of 26. (The other fourteen were taking advantage of the unofficial national holiday.)

This has now become a personal war. I have already begun to formulate a plan for defeating the evil kiss-and-tell students next year. I am going to lecture about the Great Depression while blindfolded and listening to the Grateful Dead on my Walkman. I think this is ground-breaking territory in my profession. (I suspect that I'll probably be featured in some education journal in an article about trend setting educators.)

But as for this year's Superbowl, I am glad I missed it, especially the pre-game Kiss concert (will someone tell them the 80's are over?) and the half-time Estefan-Wonder-Voodoo spectacle. I guess it was good that the promoters were able to squeeze the game in between the concerts and the commercials. My God, what have we become?

That's it. I'm moving to the jungles of Borneo where the lizards are actually eating the frogs and not in cahoots with them, pitching Budweiser to sedentary American couch potatoes! (My apologies to any honest, hard-working potatoes out there I may have just offended.)

Hafa Adai

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