Baseball
season is over! Yay! I’m doing the happy dance. Except...now it’s college
football season. I really don’t get the whole crazed sports thing. I don’t mind
watching a baseball game now and then. As long as I know a bit about the team.
But college football is another beast altogether.
For
example, last night he watched the last quarter (thankfully, he’s not one of
those, I have to watch the entire game people—he’s too busy for that) of the
Northern Illinois vs. Toledo game. (It’s not like Cal actually cares about
either team.)
I asked, “Why are you streaming this game?”
Cal
said, “Because this is the highest scoring game ever in this division.”
Me:
“And you care about that?”
Cal:
“Yeah, because neither team has a defense to speak of.”
Me:
“So you want to watch a lot of losers play football?” Okay, I didn’t actually say that—I thought
it.
Watching
a game for no reason other than a statistical anomaly, only shows how statistics
obsessed sports is. And obscure stats can make any game seem special. For
example, “This game has the most punts by a left-footed kicker who’s blind in
one eye.” (And yet the earth keeps spinning. Imagine that.)
Cal
and I have been married 23 years, and I knew this college football thing was
coming. I’ve tried “getting into the game.” I assumed that if I knew enough
about the game, I’d get involved and interested. Nope. It’s still mind numbing—though
I did enjoy watching Colt McCoy a season or two back.
I’ve
tried writing while Cal watches the game, but it’s hard for me to mumble
appropriate words of encouragement/agreement while I’m writing. Cal: “Check out
that running back—both blockers missed him.” Me: (In the midst of rescuing a
character from destruction) “Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe next time.” Cal: “No,
our team just scored.” Me: “What?”
This
year I’m doing something different. I bought pillowcases and I’m embroidering
them. (Yes, mom, your years of torture are paying off. My mom was a firm
believer in the old European training of daughters. I can sew, cross-stitch,
embroider, etc. And I know that the tidiness of the back side of the embroidery
is as important as the front. My aunt Louisa, who’s a Swiss boarding school
teacher, used to grade her students on the back of their embroidery as well as
on the front. She once gave me a “C.” That’s the last time I ever showed her my
embroidery.) Sorry, back to football. Anyway, I’m embroidering.
Now
Cal and I have the following conversations.
Cal:
That coach should’ve called for a time out—that’s rotten clock management.
Me:
Yes. I agree. (Holding up my embroidery to his face.) Does that row of satin
stitches look even to you?
Cal:
Looks great.
Me:
You give it an “A,” right?
Cal:
Absolutely.
p.s. Check out this great post on self-promotion by Stina Lindenblatt.
