You don’t take a baby into a movie, a dog into a grocery store, a kid to a bar, food into the bathroom, or my husband to a Super Bowl Party.
For the most part, my husband is a straight-laced, reserved, conservative man. He doesn’t raise his voice and rarely curses. He prefers suits over jeans; jazz over hip hop; and a family day in over a boys night out. He takes the slogan, “never let them see you sweat” literally, as he manages 140 people, numerous clients, and litigates a variety of legal cases monthly. I guarantee you, no one has seen him sweat. He is Miles Davis cool.
However, when there is a basketball or football game on that he cares about, the curtain closes on Miles and out runs, a combination of Bobby Brown & Mick Jagger—complete with the intoxication, gyrations, wagging tongue, screaming, ticking movements, and an abundance of sweat.
First problem: He truly believes that he is coaching his team. He paces up and down the “field” during plays, shouting at what needs to be done, what wasn’t done correctly, and letting out a tremendous “whooo-hoooo” when “his team” listened to him and executed well. This “coach” is no Phil Jackson; think Bobby Knight.
Second problem: He suddenly becomes superstitious. Typically a logical man, suddenly my husband starts using his jazz hands to throw good ju-ju at his team. If someone walks into the room and the game starts going poorly, he will deem you bad luck and make you leave. Seriously.
Third problem: He is a sorry loser. That saying, “it’s just a game” is complete bullshit to him, particularly because he has expended so much energy “coaching” his team. If only they would have listened to him. Additionally, if his team loses, all television sets must be turned off to any station that may mention the game for a period that spans multiple days. He literally won’t even read the sports section of the newspaper until he feels as if all talk about the defeat of “his team” or the victory parade for the opposing team will have passed.