I stumbled upon a clip of Keyshawn Johnson talking to Michael Irvin about Taylor Swift sinking the Chiefs, a theory advanced by Skip B—

—ayless [burps] sorry. It was harrowing, I tells ya. Just a mass of hawt gas and criticizing Swift overexposure and therefore driving the overexposure: a perfect circle of the banal-est of bullshits. Personally, my heart is with Swift. She got wrangled into cheering for an underperforming team, no doubt deceived by a tough defense and Patrick Mahomes’s reputation as an insurance pitchman. I wish folks were kind to Taylor. Her added cachet makes the NFL a less troglodyte pursuit.

If anything, the real distraction is Andy Reid’s foray into advertising, which has obviously gone to his head. (Reid is a convincing glutton—who knew!) Coach got the acting itch and is going soft. I think it’s just as valid a theory for KCs downfall. That and having a receiver room full of Roberto Duráns.

Every time I watch Hard Knocks or some other behind the scenes NFL foodstuffs, my respect for players grows because of the intolerable number of meeting hours those men are subjected to on a weekly basis. It’s indoctrination stuff, single-track programming geared to keep out distractions. The definition is well known: a distraction is anything that is not fitbaw, for example, life.

For civilians, it’s the other way around: the NFL is the distraction. Although fandom is more than just entertainment, because of all the emotional investment and communal hive mind. Yet, it’s funny how team loyalty is regarded as sacred, certainly more sacred than marriage, that’s for sure. In a personal relationship, infidelity is something that happens; people are not perfect, there are two sides to every story, I’M SUFFOCATING / UR NEVER THERE etc. etc. It’s contentious but stays private.* But you stop wearing your team jersey after a losing streak, and the “front runner”, “poser” and “typical Cowboys fan in December” judging comes out in full force. The Team Marriage Police is real and has a Taliban fervor.

*Inapplicable to screamers.

Sometimes one needs to be told what to do, whether by a supervisor, doctor or therapist, or Josh Allen demanding another roughing flag. But, I think, nobody needs to be told what to like. The fan experience admits alternatives other than monogamy and resentment (a.k.a., traditional Catholic marriage). Gambling and fantasy football are polyamory outlets, where you can exploit your inside knowledge of your terrible team’s weaknesses. From experience: spite gambling is more satisfying than wishcasting for profit. And for those of you in fantasy championships: may all your bench players have a dynamite Week 17.

And for everyone: I wish that your team does not let you down even more. You can help yourself by calibrating your expectations. If rooting for the Eagles, you must recognize that Matt Patricia rot has attached; extirpation is inevitable, whether before or after the player mutiny. If vested in the AFC South, there may be a space for you in the upcoming DSM-6. If you’re a Loins fan, hoo booy: celebrate each victory like it were an Owl win because you can only feel joy in the present and nobody knows what the future will bring. Same goes for Browns fans, who had the fortune of being relieved of the Deshaun Watson distraction early in the season.

Make distractions fun again, dammit. Here’s Rodney Dangerfield killing it. Have a great day.

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