I have a roommate named Micah. I like to write about him because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like to read about himself. There are specific reasons I live with the guy. For one, he’s dependable. I can always count on finding him unconscious on the couch in the morning or playing online chess while blasting Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl” and singing along. For second, he pays rent. And for thirdsies, he and I have a lot in common.

I’m not going to lie to you. I’m not the most physically active guy on the block. If I so much as see a shadow in the shape of a Frisbee , football, or soccer ball come toward me, I scream “cobras!” and curl up into the fetal position. This means I flinch every time a bird passes overhead. Now, imagine an ant drinking from a droplet of water, a blade of grass swaying in an endless field, or the flap of a butterfly’s wing. I would consider these insignificant events to be a more powerful influence on the universe and my own sense of entertainment than anything remotely related to sports.

Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. Hockey, for example, contains the promising possibility of a fight breaking loose, of broken teeth and blood loss. This is entertaining. However, this entertainment taken out of context and placed into, let’s say, a boxing ring, immediately makes it unwatchable. At the same time, if the boxers were to “hug it out,” it would be entertaining again. What I’m saying here is the only time sports are entertaining is when the players start doing exactly what the sport itself denies, rendering the event useless. Breaking the rules makes the game. Ironically, sports are only interesting when I find myself not watching a sport at all.

This brings me back to Micah. Micah recently decided that he “likes” to watch college football.

And to clarify, no, he doesn’t.

Micah wants to like college football. There’s nothing wrong with that. There are times I would like it if I liked college football. This doesn’t change the fact that it’s not going to happen. It’s kind of like how I sometimes wish I wasn’t white so I could appreciate rap music videos on BET, or a woman so I could enjoy movies on the Lifetime channel, or an idiot so I could sit through an episode of “The Hills” without vomiting. Micah wants to be a regular guy who talks about “the game last night.”

Micah wants to be boring.

This is a problem for me, because Micah isn’t boring. He is very interesting. He once had a red afro. Now he is becoming something he is not, and the real tragedy is that he’s hogging the television to do it. It makes me want to take a glove , smack him across the face and say, “Hey. Listen. There are some people in this apartment who still need their fix of “How It’s Made” each hour, buddy, and those people aren’t going to be able to find out how Canadian fire hoses are assembled unless you stop pretending, get off the couch and let them take control of the remote.”

I fear Micah may convince himself of this new interest in sports. I fear what this means for my friend and his nonstop Final Fantasy marathons. Will football stand in his way of getting the Golden Chocobo? Time will tell.

In the meantime, there’s a new episode of “The Hills” I’ve been meaning to watch.