Sports Talk

fa-nat-ic (fuh-nat-ik) noun  A person motivated by irrational enthusiasm (as for a cause);
                                 adjective Marked by intense devotion to a cause or idea

I am a sports fanatic. I have been since the second grade when I discovered that my crush, Todd Brandon, was a Dallas Cowboys Fan. On my next trip to the school library I checked out a book about the team and by the end of the week I was discussing Roger Staubach and Ed "Too Tall" Jones as if they were my neighbors across the street. Luckily for me, Todd Brandon was a true sports fan and not just a horny second grader who liked the Dallas Cheerleaders, because I spent the whole season chatting him up about football and then he started "going with" Lisa Ritch...a girly, petite brunette!

The Todd Brandon Experience taught me that one key to operating in a man's world was having a working knowledge of sports. My daddy was a self-employed mechanic and I grew up in Nascar Country, so I already had a taste for loud diesel trucks and fast cars. But "sports talk" allowed me private,  uninterrupted access to my dad without getting my hands greasy. Growing up, the only weekly televised sports events beyond pro football were ACC basketball games on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Being the consummate 1980's woman, my mother was addicted to "Dynasty", which came on at 9:00 PM on Wednesday nights. So, every week it was me and my dad, sitting on the edge of my canopy bed, watching the TarHeels on an 18" black and white television because my mom had commandeered the living room. The weeks they did not play on TV, which were rare, we listened to Woody Durham call the games on 1110 WBT-AM.  In 1978 when the TarHeels played in Charlotte in the North-South Doubleheader, my dad and I were there in person. And on January 17, 1979, when Dudley Bradley stole the in-bound pass and scored with less than two seconds to beat the Wolfpack 70-69, we collapsed my canopy bed celebrating "our" victory.

At some point in the midst of all this, I began to genuinely enjoy watching sports. By the sixth grade I was 5'9", overly well-endowed and extremely uncomfortable with my body shape so I was not interested in participating in sports directly. Technically, I was a member of the basketball team during my junior high years, but I did not play and I liked it that way. (My lack of enthusiasm drove my dad insane!) I was a cheerleader for several years in high school, but these were the years before cheerleading became a competitive sport and they only needed my strong back and broad shoulders so the petite brunettes would have a place to build their stunts.

And now I am the mother of two athletes...hard workers with some basic skills, that coaches choose in the first round of the "drafts" they have at the rec before each season. "We" play soccer (fall and spring), basketball (winter and summer) and my youngest also plays baseball. Amazingly, I have given birth to human beings who can score baskets, block goals and dribble with both hands while they push the ball down the court. When Braeden steps up to home plate, the opposing coaches tell their outfielders to back up and I swell with pride! Watching my children compete has taught me good sportsmanship and proper etiquette. If I can't say something nice I definitely don't scream it loud enough for others to hear (anymore) and I NEVER go onto the field or the court if they are hurt unless they give me "The Look." Even then I have been instructed to proceed very slowly and cautiously in case I have misinterpreted their intentions.

Granted, my love of sports began as a way to impress a boy and now I am trying to make an impression on the two boys I cart to practices and games each week. Sports gave me a way to communicate with a man I might not have known at all otherwise and to this day when family conversations get too tense, one of us will say, "Hey! How 'bout them TarHeels?" Sports gave me a place to belong in the larger collective and a way to instantly recognize those in my baby-blue tribe. And sports taught me the importance of always traveling through life with a Rowdy group of girls to help you plan and plot your adventures.

Footnote:  While I was writing this blog I was watching an ESPN feature on my man crush, Tim Tebow. Undoubtedly, he is too conservative for me and I feel certain that he might find me a little too "experienced" for his taste. But believe me when I say,  that boy is Fresh Cougar Meat.