Confessions of A Sport's Fans Wife

The NBA playoffs are among us. You may or may not even be aware of this depending on your affiliation with sports. Before Rhett, I was pretty oblivious. I had a father and 4 brothers (a hodgepodge of boyfriends) and the sports knowledge that I accumulated before I left home was that: there were sports, people played them, and I believe I was familiar with the phrase “Baseball is America’s pastime.” Neat.

I’ll bypass the boyfriend I had in college who LOVED the Patriots, and even the one who made me watch whenever the Celtics were on. I started dating Rhett and I was smitten. We did most things together from that point on. I suppose it took me awhile to catch on to the fact that whenever he would pick me up for a date, he would turn on ESPN for a quick update before we left. It seemed harmless, even cute. When he acted all mysterious about my birthday present, told me I would really love it, I tried not to get too excited when my roommates had me convinced that it was a ring. He was going to propose on my birthday!! When, in fact, all the excitement was because he had actually gotten us really good seats at the Jazz/Sonics. Second level baby!! A-woohoo! It's the present that keeps on giving, right?!(Who needs diamonds and a lifelong commitment when you can hold hands, eat popcorn and yell “DE-FENSE!” all night??)
Still, watching sports with Rhett was, in the end, time with him. He seemed so animated and excited to explain things to me, and I got to be completely adorable when I made little sports mistakes like, calling an onside kick in football an online kick. Or when I didn’t understand why they would always run up the middle. They always got tackled so fast that way. (“Hello?? Go around!”)
By our wedding day when I called him the morning of to see if he was feeling as excited and emotional as me, the fact that he was in his tux watching Sportscenter seemed very much our normal. I was marrying a sports fan. A huge sports fan. One who tried to listen up against the door to games after he had been sent to bed at age 6, a kid who at 3 had a Pittsburg Steelers shirt because he already had a favorite team. One who can recall not only stats, but actual plays from games that he wasn’t even born when they took place.

The tough thing about sports is that whenever one gets over, another one is there ready to take its place. And not only that, but somehow in our dating experience he came away with the impression that, I liked them too! The first few years I was a good sports fan’s wife. I dutifully watched, cheered and even jumped up and down when the Jazz made it to the finals. (That was pretty exciting; I’ll give it to him).
Year 5: “Watch the Jazz tonight? Didn’t they just play last night?”
Year 6: “I watch your sports, why don’t you watch any of my shows with me??”
Year 7: “Watch the Broncos? Call me when it’s the 4the quarter.”
Year 8: “How does me watching it with you, help??”
Year 9: “Oh it’s March Madness? I’ll see you in April sweetie.”
Year 10: “Honey, I really don’t think there is a referee conspiracy against the Jazz. Can I please go to bed now?”

Last night, during a high stress Jazz game, I tried to nonchalantly get myself across the family room to the office. No such luck. “Come on, will you please watch this with me, it’s sooo exciting! You’ll like it!” Ahh, year 11. As I throw myself dramatically onto the couch and sigh loudly with disinterest and mumble something about “against my will” under my breath, I have to acknowledge that my sports fan husband has taught me much over the years. How many wives get to know how the draft system really works? That a “pick and roll” is not just fun to say, but an actual way to get past a defender and get the ball to the hoop? Have you heard the story behind how Mike Shanahan became the coach of the Broncos? Or how the Spurs got Tim Duncan? Or how Michael Jordan pushed off of Bryon Russell in game 6? You should, it’s fascinating.
I know, I probably gave him a false sense of who I was when we were dating by appearing to love sports as much as he did. But in my defense (I mean, DE-FENSE!) I was really just enjoying being with him. I didn’t really understand just how much he loved sports. As another NBA playoffs is upon us, yet another hope that the Jazz could go all the way, I admire my husband’s loyalty, his steadfastness, his team spirit, his ability to watch 20 someodd teams play 5-7 games each. I also count my blessings that we have 3 sons he can mold and train and that it let’s me off the hook to go watch Dancing with the Stars.