You may be surprised to learn that I am not a big football fan.
Stella, on the other hand, enjoys watching football with David, although it does cause her some anxiety. After every big pile-on tackle, she turns to David and says, "Is that guy okay?" Sure! Sure he's okay! Unless you count the increased likelihood of crippling neurological damage and dementia later in life. Which the NFL apparently does not.
I used to be more of a football fan pre-kids, and once or twice even watched a game where the Packers weren't playing. Then I decided I was learning a little too much about football. One ugly day I realized I could name more Packers players than members of the Supreme Court, and I knew my brief period of being a fan needed to come to an end. (And although some professional sports players later go into politics, I don't think there's any intersection between the Packers and the Supreme Court, although Ruth Bader Ginsburg previously played for the Cardinals.) The good news is that I never fully absorbed the concept of West Coast Offense, no matter how many times David tried to explain it to me. There's hope for me yet.
David is a big Packers fan, and feels that people who root for other football teams are at best misguided and at worst morally corrupt. Still, he pities them since their poor choice in football teams is determined in part by geography, a factor to some degree out of their control. The poor things can't help it if they were born in Chicago. It's sort of like how I imagine the Pope feels towards Jews: perfectly nice people, but come Judgment Day, they're headed to a bad, bad place. That's right: they're going to Toothville, Oklahoma.