Primeval fic: Why We Do What We Do
Title: Why We Do What We Do
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make nothing off this.
Rating: PG
Summary: Connor has a slightly unusual pastime he enjoys.
Notes: Connor, in the series, is a straight guy. I like to think he's got some of the normal predilections of straight men, even through his normal geekery. Also, in response to that p100 prompt going around of football, I just kind of had this happen. Obviously this isn't for that prompt, but it prompted this.
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Abby approached Jess and Emily one day as the pair were at the ADD, Jess giving Emily a sort of crash course in the practical workings of technology. "Jess, can I stay over at your place tonight?"
"How come?" Jess asked, whipping around and frowning. "Are you and Connor having an argument or something?"
"No," Abby said definitely. "It's more that . . ." she sighed. "Connor's Dad'll be phoning tonight, so that means he'll have the thing on that sport of his." She shook her head in dismay. "I just don't understand, and it's too irritating to fight over, so I'd just as soon not be there."
Eyebrow raised in curiosity, Jess agreed. Emily, later that afternoon, mentioned it to Matt. "I don't quite understand, since Abby has indicated rather a passion for football and does tolerate discussions of rugby and cricket."
Matt appealed to Becker in curiosity, at which point Becker admitted he had no notion of what the problem was, and the two men, beset with curiosity, headed out to the Temple-Maitland residence that evening to find out what the problem was. When Matt knocked, they waited a moment, and then Connor was there, answering the door, a phone at his ear. "Half a sec, Dad. Is something wrong?"
"No," Matt told him. "But Emily was curious and now so am I, what this sport is that would drive Abby out of the flat."
A tiny, tinny voice over the phone shouted, "It's an abomination, that's what!"
"Dad," Connor said, rolling his eyes and gesturing his teammates in, "Just because I don't watch the same sports as everyone else in the UK-"
"You know perfectly well that you do it to drive me mad! Why don't you just drive a stake through me heart!" came the voice over the phone.
Matt and Becker came into the living room area and stopped dead, staring. "And he's going -- twenty yards, ten, touchdown!" shouted a commentator on the screen as the crowds roared.
"American football?" Becker asked, aghast.
Matt stared. "That's not football," he said, confused.
"It's American football," Connor corrected from where he'd finally divested himself of the phone. "If you want to be really technical about it, it's American Rugby College Football."
Becker turned, a sceptical eyebrow raised. "Meaning?"
"Rugby College, back in the day, invented Rugby Football, which we now just call Rugby," Connor explained absently as he sat down. "Then some Americans got hold of it and changed the rules some, creating American Rugby Football."
Matt was still staring, fascinated. After a few plays of silence, he asked. "How does it . . . what just happened?" he asked. "Why are they giving the ball to the opposition?"
"Oh, that was the fourth down," Connor said. "Basically, they have four tries to make it ten yards. If they don't they forfeit the ball and the other team has four tries."
"And if they make it?"
"Then they have another four tries," Connor explained. Becker shook his head, watching the oddly hypnotic repetition on the screen of the two lines, the clash at the start of the play, the tackling mess of a sort-of scrum that followed, repeat. He tuned back in to the words, "And then there's the two point conversion, which only happens after a touchdown, where the ball gets passed over the line."
"Why are you watching American football?" Becker asked.
"Emily said that Abby thinks you do it to annoy your father," Matt said.
Connor nodded. "That's how it started, and that's what I let Abby think."
"But it isn't the reason," Matt said slowly.
"No," Connor nodded. "Part of it is I do just like watching something that no one else around watches, you know. And the rules are more complicated, I mean, at a base level than regular football. I mean what have you got there? Get the ball in the other team's net to score and don't use your hands. Very simple. This is complicated."
"And that's not it either," Matt said shrewdly. "Otherwise you'd watch baseball, which I understand is a darling of statisticians."
"True," Connor said, getting up and heading for the fridge. "Beer?" he tossed over his shoulder. The other two assented, looking confusedly at the television screen.
"Then what . . ." Becker started, then trailed off as the young, scantily clad and very flexible young women pranced onto the field and started dancing. Gyrating, really.
The three men sat back together. "That's why," Connor said. A camera swung by a closeup on a dark-skinned girl's cleavage.
Matt and Becker considered the arguments carefully as they nursed their beers.
"I think it's valid," Becker said as a kick revealed the red knickers underneath.
"When's the next match?" Matt asked.
************************************
Thank you Dad, for killing me with the details of Canadian vs. American football (there are differences) and how that relates back to Rugby and soccer-football.
Return to Primeval archive
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make nothing off this.
Rating: PG
Summary: Connor has a slightly unusual pastime he enjoys.
Notes: Connor, in the series, is a straight guy. I like to think he's got some of the normal predilections of straight men, even through his normal geekery. Also, in response to that p100 prompt going around of football, I just kind of had this happen. Obviously this isn't for that prompt, but it prompted this.
***********************************
Abby approached Jess and Emily one day as the pair were at the ADD, Jess giving Emily a sort of crash course in the practical workings of technology. "Jess, can I stay over at your place tonight?"
"How come?" Jess asked, whipping around and frowning. "Are you and Connor having an argument or something?"
"No," Abby said definitely. "It's more that . . ." she sighed. "Connor's Dad'll be phoning tonight, so that means he'll have the thing on that sport of his." She shook her head in dismay. "I just don't understand, and it's too irritating to fight over, so I'd just as soon not be there."
Eyebrow raised in curiosity, Jess agreed. Emily, later that afternoon, mentioned it to Matt. "I don't quite understand, since Abby has indicated rather a passion for football and does tolerate discussions of rugby and cricket."
Matt appealed to Becker in curiosity, at which point Becker admitted he had no notion of what the problem was, and the two men, beset with curiosity, headed out to the Temple-Maitland residence that evening to find out what the problem was. When Matt knocked, they waited a moment, and then Connor was there, answering the door, a phone at his ear. "Half a sec, Dad. Is something wrong?"
"No," Matt told him. "But Emily was curious and now so am I, what this sport is that would drive Abby out of the flat."
A tiny, tinny voice over the phone shouted, "It's an abomination, that's what!"
"Dad," Connor said, rolling his eyes and gesturing his teammates in, "Just because I don't watch the same sports as everyone else in the UK-"
"You know perfectly well that you do it to drive me mad! Why don't you just drive a stake through me heart!" came the voice over the phone.
Matt and Becker came into the living room area and stopped dead, staring. "And he's going -- twenty yards, ten, touchdown!" shouted a commentator on the screen as the crowds roared.
"American football?" Becker asked, aghast.
Matt stared. "That's not football," he said, confused.
"It's American football," Connor corrected from where he'd finally divested himself of the phone. "If you want to be really technical about it, it's American Rugby College Football."
Becker turned, a sceptical eyebrow raised. "Meaning?"
"Rugby College, back in the day, invented Rugby Football, which we now just call Rugby," Connor explained absently as he sat down. "Then some Americans got hold of it and changed the rules some, creating American Rugby Football."
Matt was still staring, fascinated. After a few plays of silence, he asked. "How does it . . . what just happened?" he asked. "Why are they giving the ball to the opposition?"
"Oh, that was the fourth down," Connor said. "Basically, they have four tries to make it ten yards. If they don't they forfeit the ball and the other team has four tries."
"And if they make it?"
"Then they have another four tries," Connor explained. Becker shook his head, watching the oddly hypnotic repetition on the screen of the two lines, the clash at the start of the play, the tackling mess of a sort-of scrum that followed, repeat. He tuned back in to the words, "And then there's the two point conversion, which only happens after a touchdown, where the ball gets passed over the line."
"Why are you watching American football?" Becker asked.
"Emily said that Abby thinks you do it to annoy your father," Matt said.
Connor nodded. "That's how it started, and that's what I let Abby think."
"But it isn't the reason," Matt said slowly.
"No," Connor nodded. "Part of it is I do just like watching something that no one else around watches, you know. And the rules are more complicated, I mean, at a base level than regular football. I mean what have you got there? Get the ball in the other team's net to score and don't use your hands. Very simple. This is complicated."
"And that's not it either," Matt said shrewdly. "Otherwise you'd watch baseball, which I understand is a darling of statisticians."
"True," Connor said, getting up and heading for the fridge. "Beer?" he tossed over his shoulder. The other two assented, looking confusedly at the television screen.
"Then what . . ." Becker started, then trailed off as the young, scantily clad and very flexible young women pranced onto the field and started dancing. Gyrating, really.
The three men sat back together. "That's why," Connor said. A camera swung by a closeup on a dark-skinned girl's cleavage.
Matt and Becker considered the arguments carefully as they nursed their beers.
"I think it's valid," Becker said as a kick revealed the red knickers underneath.
"When's the next match?" Matt asked.
************************************
Thank you Dad, for killing me with the details of Canadian vs. American football (there are differences) and how that relates back to Rugby and soccer-football.
Return to Primeval archive