Sports vs. women

 Yes, it’s the age old battle between women and their husbands/boyfriends everywhere: us vs. sports. Us being the softer and more comely sex, the female species. It seems that the male species has a hard time trying to balance their mind-numbing attraction to anything that has a ball and is part of a game with showing affection or interest in their female partner. I know we don’t bounce (ummmm…well, some women do), roll, swoosh through baskets, smell like leather, feel like leather (ummmm…well again, some women do), score points for their favorite team, or sit there like some inanimate object that will do whatever they want us to do. Yet it’s not an uncommon thing for women to find themselves feeling less important than that 678th-baseball-game-that-means-nothing-right-now-because-it’s-not-the-playoffs – and won’t be for some time to come.

I happen to be a woman who enjoys watching sports; I like, nay, I LOVE a little good competition. I was brought up participating in sports, from soccer at an early age through tennis (briefly), softball (briefly), and finally my favorite sport, volleyball. I understand the pull, the innate desire to want to just crush your opponents head. It’s intoxicating, it really is. 🙂 But for some reason, my apparent enthusiasm for sports is sometimes met with disdain or disregard by members of the opposite sex because surely I can’t appreciate the complexity, the true nature of sports because I don’t grow hair from every orifice of my body, or I haven’t “suffered” for my team (whatever my team is), or I just don’t understand “man stuff” and how hard it is to be a guy.

Hmph. Yeah, whatever. Just because I don’t sport a jockstrap when I have to play sports (which, by the way, could be compared to a certain article of clothing girls wear to keep two things in check like men wear jockstraps to keep their two things in check) doesn’t mean that I am not intelligent enough or unable to enjoy and/or understand the thrill of a good game. Now, I do agree that men take it to the Nth degree when it comes to factoids and recollections of games. I am not going to pull out of my head who was the tight end for the 2002 Super Bowl Champions or what point guard scored the most points in a playoff series or any other crazy statistic that would just waste space in my head. No offense, men, but your heads all seem to be full of such “useful” information. In fact, just the other day my mom made a comment to my aunt who was here visiting from Alaska regarding my dad and my uncle.

We’re standing in the front yard, waiting to head off to dinner and chatting about life and my dad and uncle start talking sports. And you know where this goes. It starts with the general chitchat about how their current teams are doing, what it looks like for next season, and then they start down that infamous Memory Lane to re-live or re-hash past games (they especially like to do this with Utah/BYU games). It’s incredible, the stats, the details of the game, the players names, how much they weighed, how fast they throw, the pattern they ran – wow. It all just seems to come back so easily to you men.  My mom sighed and said, “If only you could use the same skills to apply energy to other areas of life, just think where you could be!” You know, like remembering your anniversary, birthdays, holidays, etc. Instead, it’s all sports, all the time.

Sigh…sports are a man’s best friend it seems. At least during the Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. I guess I need to come up with new strategies to “compete”. Maybe flashing lights, a time clock, or two basketballs strapped to my chest would work… 😉

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3 comments

  1. Amanda (Mariotti) Calton · May 2, 2008

    Amen, to the sister in the back! I am devoutly anti-softmommy. You know those touchy-feely new-agey people who nurse their kids until they’re 7 and believe that anything Junior does is okay because he’s expressing his inner self? Blegh. I read an article a few years ago in a major publication, not a parenting mag, that said we’ve gone soft on our kids. We expect too little, allow too much, don’t let them learn the value of a hard day’s work, or self-entertaining, or exploration and imagination. Instead we plug them in, drop everything at their whim, and cater to them. We don’t teach manners or appropriate ways to talk to elders and people whom they should respect…you get it. Kudos to you, because not only to I hate the peanut gallery weighing on my parenting style, I hate the idea that children aren’t people who should be expected to behave.

  2. Big Dave Demcak · May 3, 2008

    It was Ben Watson and Oscar Robertson.

  3. angelbrew · May 3, 2008

    Gee, Dave, thanks for sharing that useful bit of info for us there. How come I knew you would know something like that? 🙂

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