Tales of a Sports Widow

My husband is watching his first football game since the Super Bowl tonight, a pre-season game between the New England Patriots (rah, rah, sis-boom-bah) and the Baltimore Ravens. I am what you would call a "sports widow," the wife of a man that loves, with a passion (no, seriously A PASSION) almost all sports. Baseball, football, basketball...thank God we don't watch golf; I would possibly have to get a lobotomy. Early on in our relationship, I realized that if I really, truly loved this man that I would have to watch my fair share of sports on television. This was a MAJOR culture shock for me. Let me just give you some background: I was the cheerleader that had NO IDEA what was going on in the game because I had never watched an entire game in my life. I was the music loving, earthy crunchy theater major that had NO clue what an RBI was, or how many points were scored by free-throws. I avoided watching sports like the plague, and I lived in blissful ignorance about who was in the playoffs , Super Bowl or World Series each year. I probably couldn't name any current players, never mind what teams they played for or their stats. Now I know ALL that stuff--and more. I took one for the team, cuddled up to my honey on the couch and watched...and watched...and watched.

In the early years, I loved how my husband went on and on about on base percentage, yards rushed and penalty shots. He would talk about sports like an old friend or lover, one he knew so well but that always continued to surprise, disappoint or fascinate him. I figured that if he loved it so much, that I could love it as well. I was partially correct. You see, I liked watching with him and interacting by asking questions and was so proud of myself for learning. I felt like a young, eager student with a crush on my teacher, always yearning to please with what I had absorbed. Before I knew it, I was actually understanding what I watching, and it was pretty entertaining. Then came Tom Brady ( do I have to say more ladies?) and the Patriots winning the Super Bowl (again and again) after years of sub-par performance--of course that was exciting. Then the RED SOX (yes, the Red Sox, with their curse of the Bambino, Bill Buckner and Grady Little's faith in Pedro Martinez) won the World Series after 86 years. Who wouldn't get excited about that? That was actually the year we got married, and I looked at it as a divine sign that we were good luck for the sporting universe and we were meant to be together.

Don't get me wrong, I was pretty excited when the Celtics won the playoffs this year, but over the past couple of years, I have begun to notice the abundance of other programs and movies on television that we could be watching instead of sports. And now that I know all the players and how each sport works, I have nothing to talk about with my husband during the games. The romance that once existed in our mutual love of sports has faded, and now I find myself sitting there wishing that we could be watching a documentary, a movie, sitcom, or even a PBS special. I think I am a "moderate" sports lover. I would like to watch one or two games a week and call it a day. For my husband, it is like another job. But then something came along that solved this problem and set the world right again:

Blogging.

Now, while my husband watches his beloved players on the field, court or diamond, I am writing, commenting, visiting other blogs, and working on my blog design. I realized that I had tried to borrow, or adopt if you will, my husband's passion. But really, I needed to find my own. We don't have to like all the same things, although it is nice to share some interests. But just because my husband wants to devote so much time watching variations of men throwing, hitting or kicking balls doesn't mean that I have to. I can choose to share in that time when I feel like it, and the rest of the time I can be pouring my heart out into my laptop. The most important thing that we will always BOTH be passionate about is our love for each other-- and that's never out of season.