Football Widowers Guide

My brother got all the sports genes—what can I say? I collected baseball cards when I was a kid, but I always got killed on the trades because I didn’t know the good players from the bad, nor why they were good or bad. And let’s just say my Little League record closely paralleled by trading card record.

And basketball. And football. Football was especially important by the time we moved to Colorado. Back then, the Broncos were always contenders, as well as the C.U. Buffaloes—yes, those Buffbroncosaloes. The ones who went up against Notre Dame for a national title in 1991. (I remember that much.)

Then there’s the year the Broncos were in the Super Bowl against the Cowboys. While my dad and brother and his buddies crowded around the TV, I drove the family wagon to McDonald’s for burgers and fries, taking time to do some donuts in King Soopers’ parking lot. Yeah, no hurry to get home. It’s only football.

These days? We’re in Irish country, but I have retained my indifference to football. My wife, though, has become a super-fan, and the autumn revolves around Notre Dame’s schedule. We’ve even been to a few games, but staying at home is preferred: You can see what’s going on better on the big screen, and the snacks are cheap and plentiful.

It’s the radio for me, if anything at all. It’s too nerve-wracking to watch the tube and see what’s going wrong and not be able to do anything about it—like being in one of those nightmares that you can’t wake up from. (Not that the N.D. coaches would want my advice anyway, as my sons are all too quick to remind me.)

I used to listen to games on the radio while I worked in the garage or balanced the checkbook, but not so much now. Instead, I putz around, wander in and out where the game is on, and keep tabs on the kids and the dog. My wife can enjoy the game; I can enjoy that she’s enjoying the game.

Probably there aren’t too many American males in my predicament. But for those two or three guys out there who get what I’m talking about, I have a few suggestions. It’s a LIST, and I present it to you despite the objections of Joe Queenan last week in the WSJ.

1. Prepare gastronomically. There’s a good chance there won’t be a regular sit-down meal during the game, so plan ahead. Eat light but nutritionally prudent for breakfast, and skip lunch. You’ll be leaning heavily on cheese puffs, Chex Mix, and other junk food late on Saturday to get you through to Sunday.

2. Don’t radio-jump the TV-watchers. Games on the radio are always a few seconds ahead of television broadcasts it seems. Consequently, if you’re listening and hear a touchdown called and then let out a cheer? The TV-watchers (including your wife) won’t appreciate it. It’s like telling somebody the punchline of a Sunday comic he’s reading before he gets there himself. Taboo.

3. No patronizing or gloating. If you’re not rooting for the home team, keep your mouth shut.notre-dame

4. Anticipate broadcast issues. Get cable or satellite, and make sure it’s working. If you’re like me, and you’ve rejected cable and satellite on principle, then make sure you know ahead of time whether the game will be broadcast at all.

And it’s important to determine the network ahead of time so that the proper channel can be located and the antenna adjusted. Of course, if it’s ESPN, forget it. It’s the doghouse for you that week. Plus you’ll be picking up the tab for nachos and Coke at a local eatery so your spouse and sons can at least watch the kick-off and the first half.

5. Do the dishes. And do them in such a way as to draw attention to your contribution. Once the game is over, and everyone who watched it is either celebrating or weeping, you can use your dishwashing oblation as a means of reconnecting with your spouse. And if it was a bunch of dishes, it can carry over throughout the week.

Until the next kickoff, that is. Go Irish!

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1 Comment

  1. Nancy

     /  September 16, 2013

    It is always fun to enjoy the family enjoying themselves.

    Like

    Reply

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