Ducks In A Tub

Taking life's adventures one day at a time.

Monday, October 23, 2006

Get your own beer!

My husband, the sports fan. What husband isn’t? Most men (and I know some women) are obsessed with any activity involving an object (typically a ball) that other men fight over, run around, or try to put into a particular place for the purpose of gaining a number on a scoreboard. What’s the point, I ask you? I just don’t get it.

But the fact that I don’t understand the appeal of such activity does not exempt me from playing the role of the dutiful wife. Whenever my husband wants to talk about the “greatest play of the day,” or “team standings for the playoffs,” I listen. Now, typically the information goes out one ear and in the other so that the next time the topic is breached my husband has to re-acquaint me with all the particulars of the subject.

Baseball is, by far, my hubby’s favorite sport. The world comes to an end between November (after the World Series) and February (spring season begins in March). No joke, he will actually mope around for a week after the season ends, mourning the temporary loss of his favorite past time. Periodically throughout the winter, he will watch DVD’s of his favorite teams winning the World Series (Dodgers and Angels). It always puts him in a funk because, gosh darn it, the season is just too far away.

Then he hears news of a player trade and it peaks his interest. For days all he can talk about is how this player will do great on that team, and, how dare that team get rid of this player. March brings the frenzy of spring training. He treats each pre-season game as if it actually mattered, and he rejoices or wallows in misery based on the outcomes. As of Day One of the “real” season he keeps track of which teams are in what place and the win-loss ratio of each ball club.

I guess I don’t mind too much. After all, I prefer baseball to any other sport. My mind just cannot wrap around the concept of a life encompassed by a group of grown men who PLAY for a living. Maybe that’s the point…my husband uses this outlet to release his inner boy. *Aaawww* How sweet.


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