“Gentlemen, we will chase perfection, and we will chase it relentlessly, knowing all the while we can never attain it. But along the way, we shall catch excellence.” — Vince Lombardi

“A serious football fan is never alone. We are legion, and football is often the only thing we have in common.” — Hunter S. Thompson

I came to football late.

I didn’t grow up in a sports family. Neither of my parents really played sports and neither did I. I ran track in middle school and participated in the Reserve Officers Training Corps physical training team my freshman year of high school, but, otherwise, I was a bookworm.

We didn’t watch sports much, either, outside of the occasional Super Bowl and NBA Championship, some Thanksgiving Day football games, and the Olympics.

It was actually gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson’s writings about the 1973 Super Bowl, which I discovered in my late teens or early 20s, that drew me to the game. Thompson’s kinetic writing style brought the game alive for me, so I turned on the following season and became a die-hard fan of my beloved, beleaguered Detroit Lions.

Now, I celebrate every August with the return of the NFL, college ball, and Friday night lights.

I gobble up as many games as my schedule allows (I never miss a Lions game on TV, even if I have to record it and watch it later). I do my best to follow stats and watch for breakout players at the college level who might show up in future NFL seasons. I tune in to the draft. I watch documentaries about football (“Bye Bye Barry,” about Lions legend Barry Sanders, is highly recommended). I tracked down and bought a copy of George Plimpton’s “Paper Lion,” a book about the author embedding with the Lions training camp and playing one series in 1963 (I haven’t yet tracked down a copy of the 1968 Alan Alda film based on the book). This year, I plan to do a little light betting on the games.

I watch other sports, too, but football’s my game. It’s the perfect blend of brains and brawn, skill and strategy.

Football players not only have to be able to push each other around and knock each other down and throw far and catch agilely, they have to read the offensive and defensive lineups to know which play might find success. They have to rethink plays on the fly when the offense or defense doesn’t pan out how they read it. They have to plan out every snap based on their position on the field, the score on the board, and the time left on the clock. Will they pass or run? Will they go for it on fourth down or punt it? Will they kick a field goal and settle for three points or try for that hard-to-find yardage that might keep a six-point touchdown within reach?

Sports and politics have always intertwined, especially at the Olympics. Think Germany’s banishment from the Olympic games in 1920, ’24, and ’48 over their aggression in World Wars I and II, boycotts of the 1936 games hosted by Berlin, Muhammad Ali (then still Cassius Clay) reportedly tossing his gold medal from the 1960 games into the Ohio River after being denied service at a Louisville restaurant because of the color of his skin (some dispute that ever happened), Tommie Smith and John Carlos raising their fists in a Black Power salute during a medal ceremony in 1968, the great Cold War rivalries between the U.S. and Russia in the 1980s, and Russia’s banishment from this year’s Paris games over Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

But, for the most part, once the opening whistle blows, players put politics aside and play the game to win. Not every NFL player kneeled during the playing of the national anthem, yet those who kneeled still defended and blocked for and caught for and ran for the players who stood.

And that’s another thing I love about sports: Like music, it unifies.

Sure, some people can’t get over the politics and no longer appreciate the ballet of the game (or the talent of the music or the great storytelling of the film).

But many do.

Maybe most.

They gnash their teeth at each other on social media but still sit down next to each other in the stadium, beers in hand, and loudly urge their team stomp all over the opponents.

For two-and-a-half hours or so, they are not Democrats or Republicans. They’re Lions fans. They hail not from red counties or blue counties. They hail from Detroit.

I can’t entirely turn off politics, because to ignore politics is to ignore your very quality of life and standard of living and your safety, prosperity, and freedom.

Yet, for a little while every Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, I can put all that on the backburner, sip on an Austin Bros. 45er, and scream for something fun for a change.

So thank you, Lord, for football’s return.

Go Lions!

Justin A. Hinkley can be reached at 989-354-3112 or jhinkley@thealpenanews.com. Follow him on Twitter @JustinHinkley.