This football season has been brutal. Sunday afternoon & evening, & Monday evening too, if I can stand it, I forfeit my rights to our TV. I don’t want to be an unsupportive wife; my husband loves football & I respect that. I just don’t understand sports. I never have & I’m guessing that’s not going to change anytime soon.
When I was 18, I went to a small school in the Texas Hill Country for a year. There were a lot of Canadian students, which is how I met my friend Corlene. I drove a beat-up Dodge Ram & was perpetually being made fun of for overusing “y’all.” It didn’t make sense to me, because THEY were in MY territory, but I joked along with them. After all, they ended sentences with “hey?” and pronounced “about” & “bag” in ways I couldn’t even pretend to understand.
As the poster girl for Texas, they assumed a lot of things about me. Most of their assumptions were right (yes I grew up surrounded by guns, boots, & rednecks), but the assumption that I knew ANYTHING about sports was very, very wrong.
One weekend a bunch of us got together to play a game of flag football. I think it was sometime in January & it had been raining a lot, so it was kind of muddy. Normally I wouldn’t have played, but there were some Jr. Highers having a retreat at the facility & I was in charge of one of the groups, so I HAD to. Also, there was a guy who kind of liked me & he was one of the team captains & picked me to be on the team. Shocking. So here I am in my pink converse, praying I don’t get hit in the face with the ball à la Marcia Brady.
So we’re playing football & using socks tucked into our pants as flags. I am doing OK because my one job is to block a jr. high girl who probably weighed all of 65 pounds. Then the boy who liked me (so was therefore blind to my lack of athleticism) was all, “Let’s give the ball to Lauren next time.” Immediately my palms started gushing, my face turned fuchsia, and my eyes welled up with tears. I begged & pleaded PLEASE DON’T GIVE ME THE BALL I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO AND I WILL DIE. But he ignored me because he thought I was being modest, & everyone else went along with it.
So, here comes my turn. Here comes the ball. OH MY GOSH I HAVE THE BALL. So I start running. At some point I lose my socks but I was too busy RUNNING FOR DEAR LIFE to notice. So people are yelling and finally a couple of Jr. High boys have had enough of this tall blonde noodle with the football who just keeps running even though her flags have been taken away, so they kind of pushed me and I toppled over. When I stood up, my team was surrounding me. Shaking their heads.
“What?” I asked. “I tried!”
“Lauren,” they told me. “You ran in the WRONG DIRECTION.”
And then they gave me a new “job,” called “sitting on the side of the field and handing out socks, and ‘cheering.’”
I was reminded of this story last week, when I was emailing with Chelsea & Lyndsey. We’re all going to a Longhorns baseball game in April, but apparently Lyndsey is sitting with her parents and there are many “rules” by which I must abide. One of them was laid out by Chelsea, & is as follows: “Never ever talk about baseball like you know what’s going on if you don’t know what’s going on. (That’s not a rule for me, I know what’s going on. Just a heads up for you.)”
Thanks Chelsea. Thanks for the heads up. Because I won’t know what’s going on. But I’ll be there, eating peanuts & crackerjacks.
And ready to yell TOUCHDOWN!
[via]
Yeah. That’s not me.
Comments on Sports enthusiast!
From Lindsay:
I probably know even less about football than you do. Other than basketball, I can’t hold any conversation about sports. I just smile and nod.
From RootsAndRings:
We love you… and it is for that reason that we warned you. Baseball lovers have no patience for people who pretend to know what they are talking about.
But the Disch has great cheeseburgers and kettlecorn, so you’ll enjoy yourself! :)
From samdotcom:
The absolute best part of baseball games is the food. I’m certain that is why there are so many innings – so that you have time to enjoy everything from the concession :)
Enjoy! You’ll have a blast.
From Sarah:
I really do know a lot about sports, so here’s my advice to you: eat a hot dog and shut up.
And I mean that in the nicest way possible.
From Kathleen:
Michael hasn’t taught you about sports yet? I’m not sure who’s to blame here.
From Sara:
I’m on the same page, I am clueless about football. I know a little more now than before I met my boyfriend. And I have an idea of who are the good or not so good teams. And that’s probably it. But when it comes to the actual games, I have no idea what the heck is going on except when someone has the ball and is running for a touchdown.
Go Texans and Cowboys <3
From Amanda:
Hey! If you’re gonna pick on Canadians, at least get it right…it’s “eh”, not “hey”, and we don’t say “about” weird…Americans pronounce it “aboot”; now that’s weird. Also…Canadians have actually been voted to have the best accents in the world due to our clear enunciation and diction which is understood world-wide. Apparently, Canadians are the most sought after for international jobs as our English is the most understandable. Juuust a little tidbit of knowledge =)
I too, experienced the “You’re running the wrong way!!” when playing touch football. So utterly humiliating!!
From Nora:
I was never good at keeping my flags but like you I always said “i tried!” can’t blame a girl for trying :)
I learned slowly but surely what the rules are and sometimes I actually enjoy the games!
From Suburban Sweetheart:
When I was little and played soccer on a team full of boys with my dad as coach, I… scored a goal for the wrong team. And then quit. But my dad kepy being the coach.
Oy.