No Blood, No Foul
I don't understand the complete obsession a man has with watching sport. I definitely understand the idea of playing sport.
I've grown up playing all kinds of sport. I'll try absolutely anything that requires physical skill. But to sit down for numerous hours watching a game is beyond anything my brain can cope with.
There are games and there are games. Games like the Super Bowl and State of Origin (played in Australia) are important sporting moments so I understand that. It's everything else in between that gets me. In Sydney, my husband has the Foxsports Channel finely tuned in. There are five-day cricket matches, rugby league, rugby union, Aussie football, soccer, tennis, golf, etc... Most men have their favourite sports that they follow which include a few different ones. Some take it to the next level and follow everything going in their country. But not only does my husband like to follow everything in Australia, he is obsessed with American sport. If you ask me that is a huge problem. It means the flow of sport never ends. When it's over in our country, it's starting in another. This has resulted in Foxsports being under tight regulation in our house - only short of a booking system.
I've even gotten to the point where I seduce my husband during major sporting games... fortunately he does find me more exciting than the game. He now knows his only guarantee of seeing anything is in a box seat.
Playing sport together is a different matter. We are so dangerously competitive that it would take a hospital trip to call off a game. To give you an idea, within the last four weeks we have repeatedly flirted with assault and battery. In a family soccer tournament where I was playing goalie I found myself just short of a broken nose and a black eye - that was after I had scored a goal on my first attempt against him. Hmm... a man's ego?
Then there was a silly baseball game we played with the kids. I was so desperate to catch my husband's pop fly, I was crazy enough to let my youth come flashing back which led me soaring through the air completing a double somersault, losing both shoes and enormous grass stains on my pants all with no ball in my hands.
We topped this sporting frenzy off with a brief moment of playing catch with a Nerf football. My husband jammed his finger after five minutes thanks to my heat! Score? Roxy 2, Husband 1!
Maybe I will follow a sporting team this year to mess with my husband. I'll start with football season. The NY Jets work for me. They're fast, fabulous and they wear green. In the end fashion always decides.
I don't understand the complete obsession a man has with watching sport. I definitely understand the idea of playing sport.
I've grown up playing all kinds of sport. I'll try absolutely anything that requires physical skill. But to sit down for numerous hours watching a game is beyond anything my brain can cope with.
There are games and there are games. Games like the Super Bowl and State of Origin (played in Australia) are important sporting moments so I understand that. It's everything else in between that gets me. In Sydney, my husband has the Foxsports Channel finely tuned in. There are five-day cricket matches, rugby league, rugby union, Aussie football, soccer, tennis, golf, etc... Most men have their favourite sports that they follow which include a few different ones. Some take it to the next level and follow everything going in their country. But not only does my husband like to follow everything in Australia, he is obsessed with American sport. If you ask me that is a huge problem. It means the flow of sport never ends. When it's over in our country, it's starting in another. This has resulted in Foxsports being under tight regulation in our house - only short of a booking system.
I've even gotten to the point where I seduce my husband during major sporting games... fortunately he does find me more exciting than the game. He now knows his only guarantee of seeing anything is in a box seat.
Playing sport together is a different matter. We are so dangerously competitive that it would take a hospital trip to call off a game. To give you an idea, within the last four weeks we have repeatedly flirted with assault and battery. In a family soccer tournament where I was playing goalie I found myself just short of a broken nose and a black eye - that was after I had scored a goal on my first attempt against him. Hmm... a man's ego?
Then there was a silly baseball game we played with the kids. I was so desperate to catch my husband's pop fly, I was crazy enough to let my youth come flashing back which led me soaring through the air completing a double somersault, losing both shoes and enormous grass stains on my pants all with no ball in my hands.
We topped this sporting frenzy off with a brief moment of playing catch with a Nerf football. My husband jammed his finger after five minutes thanks to my heat! Score? Roxy 2, Husband 1!
Maybe I will follow a sporting team this year to mess with my husband. I'll start with football season. The NY Jets work for me. They're fast, fabulous and they wear green. In the end fashion always decides.
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