“It’s the best time of year,” one burly ex football dude proclaimed at my daughter’s soccer practice. I thought I saw a tiny tear of happiness roll down his cheek.
I found a few statistics. 40 million men watch football every week. On average, fans watch ten hours of football a week.
Football sells recliners and big screen TVS. Satellite TV and Digital Recorders. Chips and Beers. Clothing. Headgear including fake yellow braids and big pieces of plastic cheese. Face paint. And beer. Footballs. Coolers. And beer.
In my house, we have all of this and more. We even have a cookbook featuring recipes by football players.
Every September, no make that August (I forgot about preseason), I ask myself the question. And I ask it again every time I hear the Monday Night Football song.
Terri, are you ready for some football?
Do I have a choice?
In small quantities.
If all my chores are done.
If the score is close.
If there’s a cute quarterback.
If my husband whipped up something tasty out of that football cookbook.
If I can sit in his recliner and HE brings me a beer.
Then yeah, bring it on baby!
August 25, 2011 No Comments
Here’s the weekly excerpt from my novel, To Kill An Armchair Husband, a dark comedy. This one is short but sweet in a Sports Center kind of way!
When the moon ducked behind a caravan of clouds, I downed the last of my wine and stood up. As I passed through the family room, I heard a commentator remark that the current football game was tied at the end of the fourth quarter. He went on to say that right after the commercial break, sudden death overtime would begin. The team that scored first would prevail. According to the announcer, nine times out of ten, the gutsy or unexpected play secured the win.
I glanced at Billy and saw his face brighten, his spine straighten a little. Sports Center and he both thrived on these moments. Soon, a glorious victory for one team would result in agonizing defeat for the other.
Tired of waiting for her husband to snap out of his thirty-six month slump, suburban wife Charlie Score executes a gutsy and unexpected play to win the game. The crowd roars. The commentators go wild. The victorious woman starts a new life.
August 18, 2010 6 Comments
I’ve titled this excerpt, Man balks at football pre-game interruption!! How many women can relate?
The commentators had just announced the line-up for the first game when Charlie entered the room. She marched over and grabbed the remote from the side of his chair. Before he could protest, she clicked the off button.
“What the–?” he gasped.
“We need to talk. Let’s go for a ride or better yet, let’s grab some umbrellas and go for a walk.” She clapped her hands once like she was breaking a huddle.
Billy looked at his wife in shock. She turned off the TV! In a panic, he hauled his body out of the chair and lunged for the remote in her hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Charlie side-stepped Billy’s attack and transferred the remote to her other hand. “Billy, we can’t talk with the TV blaring.” She began tapping the remote against her side.
Momentarily defeated, Billy fell back into his chair. “You could have just muted the volume. I’m missing the pre-game.” Billy heard the whine in his voice but didn’t care. She could have picked another time to talk.
“It’s the pre-game show. It lasts for two hours. If we leave now we will back in plenty of time for the actual game.” She stepped over to his chair and extended a hand to help him up.
Billy’s palms began to sweat at the thought of all the vital information he would miss. He sat up and slapped his hands down on the armrests. “I have to watch the pre-game show.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “It’s a talk show, Billy. What I have to say is more important. With your heavy football schedule, there won’t be an opportunity later.”
He ignored the sarcasm. “Yes there will be. There’s a break between the last afternoon game and the evening game. We can talk then.” He had no intention of backing down.
Charlie stuck her hands on her hips, “Number one, I can’t wait seven hours. Number two, you’ll be toasted by that time. Come on Billy, this is important. Please. I promise I’ll have you back for the first game.”
Rage exploded in Billy’s brain. “No! I want to watch the pre-game show!”
Stunned by his outbreak, the remote slipped out of Charlie’s hand.
Billy saw his opportunity. In one smooth motion, he jumped up and scooped the remote off the floor. Breathing heavily, he collapsed back into the chair. A second later, the TV clicked on again. Pride filled his chest.
He still had a few moves left.
August 11, 2010 No Comments