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Shush!! The Game is On..

I am a lady, a lovely lady. I wear makeup, get pedicures, own a closet full of heels, cook, clean, giggle, flip my hair and sit with my legs crossed and my posture poised and dignified.  Here’s a real life picture of me:

My mother grew up in a family full of sports fanatics.  Her father and grandparents suffered from a deep obsession with the Angels, Lakers and Rams. In fact, my grandfather requested that he be buried in a Lakers shirt, which is an image I will never forget and it warms my soul to think about.

I grew up under the care of a mother who, due to her upbringing, encouraged me to watch sports, attend sporting events and join pools because “it’s the American way.”  She believes it is of grave social importance to understand sports because we live in a country that celebrates the Super Bowl in grandeur greater than the end of the Iraq War.  My mom owns season tickets for the Chargers, as well as the Clippers (ok, so the Lakers are a bit pricey, but go Griffin!).  She has commissioned a football pool for ten years and, when forced, is known to seek out a manicure place that plays the games on Sundays.  Her genuine appreciation has rubbed off on me, which has brought me a wealth of joy in my heart, a healthy count of lovely people in my social circle and stealth at sports bars.

My last boyfriend loved hockey and if I wanted to see him for nine months out of the year, I figured I would participate by attending games and high fiving or sobbing when our team (LA Kings) won or lost (usually lost, usually sob).  When we watched games, I didn’t blabber about my recent bout with a girlfriend, I didn’t dish about the drama between my sisters and me, I didn’t stand in front of the TV and whine; I learned the rules and the players and there we sat, watching games and conversing about one of his greatest passions.  Is there something wrong with this picture?  If he enjoyed horseback riding or needle point, I’d make an effort to support that too.

Since then, as a single woman, I continue to follow hockey because if you’ve ever been to a game, it’s one of life’s greatest events.  I also belong to a Fantasy Football league, which has enhanced my knowledge of football and has allowed me to converse about the sport and its infinite number of players aside from the usual suspects like Brady, the devastatingly handsome Aaron Rodgers and anyone who has appeared on Dancing with the Stars.

I don’t act like I know what I’m talking about when I engage in sports talk, because I DO know what I’m talking about.  I don’t rub it in; I simply discuss what’s going on in the sports world when appropriate.  Does this make me less attractive as a woman?  If so, why?


She likes sports? DIE!!!

It is my true love for sports that makes me unique.  I would never fathom standing in front of a TV during a game, threatening to turn it off because I need to talk or eat or watch Desperate Housewives of Wichita.  The thought makes me want to vomit the very homemade meal I made for dinner last night while watching Flacco get sacked seven times.

So why is it icky that a woman like me enjoys sports?  What is so wrong with having the ability to talk about a man’s passion with him?

Please, indulge me… Game on! Here are some recent comments that inspired this post:

“Guys (the cool kind) hate it when girls make it known they like football. We crave you for your womanliness, not for your unwanted opinion of who is the best team in the AFC. Shut up. Talk about that creep who stared you down at the mall; whine about having a splinter in your boob; bend over and check out your ass in the mirror, and then ask a guy if orange is a good look for you; complain about how the rain made your hat “all soggy”; carefully examine your new manicure and make a face; argue with us about irrelevant shit like who gets to sit the aisle, and why; banter like there’s no tomorrow. Be a woman, a bitch, a slut. Just stop talking about fucking football. No attraction will come of it.”


“And if you knew what men liked, you’d leave football out of your conversations. The guys you’re dating are simply going along with the discussion because they want to get into your pants, secretly thinking, “Oh Great, another one of these…but I guess I’ll act entertained. God dammit.””


“Female football fans can be very unsexy. Being an actual fan puts you in an unfortunate situation Danielle. I don’t want to talk football with my girlfriend. Baseball on the other hand….”



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