So, I have a confession to make. I know it’s going to cause me a lot of criticism, and maybe even a few judging nods. But last Monday, I skipped the debate to watch the Falcons play the Saints in the superdome.
What in the world would possess me, a political science major, to forgo the first presidential debate, the most anticipated moment in television since season three episode nine in Game of Thrones episode when everyone died in the red wedding? (Oh, sorry. Spoiler Alert.)
What was I thinking?!?! I missed Clinton calling out Trump! I missed Trump yelling at Clinton! I missed Trump yelling at the camera! I missed Trump yelling at Trump for being too damn handsome! I missed Trump’s hair trying to make an escape to the Mexican border!
Listen, I know there were pertinent issues discussed during the debate. I spent the morning reading the media’s analysis of every single word, strategy, and sneeze of both candidates. The coverage seemed to come to one consensus; Clinton won the debate. But does it really matter?
I could have spent my Monday evening enraged. I could have yelled at the TV along with millions of other tired citizens. But I watched the game and guess what? We won. I watched the Falcons run the ball, narrowly missing the Saint’s defensive maneuvers. I yelled with a pass was almost intercepted, and I went to bed early.
Because the thing is, I knew who I was going to vote for long before the campaign became unbearable. The debate would have only served to make hate even more how shallow our political field has become. I know that over the next few weeks the media coverage is going to get progressively nasty. Sexist, racist, and xenophobic slurs are going to fly. But I won’t be watching the debate. Instead, I’ll be cheering on the Falcons at the Superbowl.