Football and smack-talk.
Those of you who know me (and I doubt anyone would bother reading this if they didn't) know that I am a Seminole. And those of you who know me also know my husband. And he is a Gator.
And we still love each other.
Here's why: I don't know much about football. He does.
Now, I graduated from Florida State University, as did my mom, sister, and lots of other classy, classy, super awesome people I know. My husband graduated from the University of Florida, as did some other people I know.
See what I did there? It's already happened. The Seminoles and Gators are serious rivals. I can't talk about it without making a snide (and I like to think, to him, adorable) comment.
But.
He can talk circles around me when it comes to strategy and plays and who they should use because it's the 4th quarter and their energy is flagging and other such football-y things. I know so little that I can't even give you a good description of how much he knows. It's like trying to explain physics to my cat. No comprendo.
Let me not totally sell myself short. I can follow the game. With enthusiasm. I know it's a touchdown, not a home run. I know a field goal from an extra point. I know to yell when we're on defense and shut-cho-mouth when we're on offense. I can even spot some flag-worthy offenses. But I'm so busy just trying to follow the ball that I don't see "holding in the back" and "late hit" and other such things. Sometimes I remember what a shotgun formation is. I STILL don't get what "play action" means despite having been told at least half a dozen times. (It doesn't make sense. They're ALL plays that involve some sort of action.) 'S'matter of fact, more than once has he told me the name of a player on my own team. (Sorry, my fellow Noles. I never claimed to be a football expert. Just an enthusiastic garnet-and-gold-wearer and TV-screamer-at-er.) One thing I definitely know is the man knows his football.
So how does one darling, charming, sweet, little flower of a wife even the playing field (pun intended) against Mr. Football? Smack talk. Of course. I just say nasty things and hope some of them stick. The husband, smug in the knowledge of his, uh, knowledge, just listens to my lame insults in silence and occasionally points out when my insult is so wrong it's just stupid.
I'm not exactly making much of a case for myself here, am I?
The point is Gators are stupid and my husband is just one heck of a swell guy.
And we still love each other.
Here's why: I don't know much about football. He does.
Now, I graduated from Florida State University, as did my mom, sister, and lots of other classy, classy, super awesome people I know. My husband graduated from the University of Florida, as did some other people I know.
See what I did there? It's already happened. The Seminoles and Gators are serious rivals. I can't talk about it without making a snide (and I like to think, to him, adorable) comment.
But.
He can talk circles around me when it comes to strategy and plays and who they should use because it's the 4th quarter and their energy is flagging and other such football-y things. I know so little that I can't even give you a good description of how much he knows. It's like trying to explain physics to my cat. No comprendo.
Let me not totally sell myself short. I can follow the game. With enthusiasm. I know it's a touchdown, not a home run. I know a field goal from an extra point. I know to yell when we're on defense and shut-cho-mouth when we're on offense. I can even spot some flag-worthy offenses. But I'm so busy just trying to follow the ball that I don't see "holding in the back" and "late hit" and other such things. Sometimes I remember what a shotgun formation is. I STILL don't get what "play action" means despite having been told at least half a dozen times. (It doesn't make sense. They're ALL plays that involve some sort of action.) 'S'matter of fact, more than once has he told me the name of a player on my own team. (Sorry, my fellow Noles. I never claimed to be a football expert. Just an enthusiastic garnet-and-gold-wearer and TV-screamer-at-er.) One thing I definitely know is the man knows his football.
So how does one darling, charming, sweet, little flower of a wife even the playing field (pun intended) against Mr. Football? Smack talk. Of course. I just say nasty things and hope some of them stick. The husband, smug in the knowledge of his, uh, knowledge, just listens to my lame insults in silence and occasionally points out when my insult is so wrong it's just stupid.
I'm not exactly making much of a case for myself here, am I?
The point is Gators are stupid and my husband is just one heck of a swell guy.
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