THE FOLLOWING IS A LONG-WINDED COMMENT GONE MAD IN RESPONSE TO A GREAT ARTICLE CALLED ANGELS ON THE SUBWAY (in the New York Mets category) by CarolynT. It ended up a bit longer than I expected so it became part of my blog.....
Carolyn-
If only my significant other (not a dude) was a great sports fan like you are maybe she would empathize with me just a little when I tell her why I can't go out for a few drinks with her "friends." Those times when I explain to her how...
"I've watched and followed this team the entire season and you want me to miss Game 5 of the series when they're down 3-1? Are you nuts? Are you even serious? You want me to abandon them now? THIS IS WHEN THEY NEED ME MOST! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
And then finally she reluctantly says...
"Fine, I'll just go by myself."
And then my focus turns to the idea of her, out and about with some other couple (who happen to both be HER friends from college, NOT mine) at some restaurant/bar (where I know a lot of the Wall Street types go to unwind from their long day of making more money than me before they leave the city for the night) wearing that little dress of hers I love so much, the one that highlights her perfect little.... And before she gets her jacket on I find myself asking...
"Do you think they'll have the game on there?"
And then, smelling blood in the water; which for a woman in a relationship simply represents getting her way and/or completely breaking our spirit (for men it usually just means I think she's gonna let me have sex with her now!) she excitedly answers...
"Of course they'll have the game on there. I always see baseball games on the TVs there, and they're all like 50-inch plasmas. I think there's 8 of them!"
Of course I know she's full of uneducated sports #### but she can't be completely lying. Either way, I gargle some Scope, throw some water on my face, and reach for my nicest "I'm not broke" shirt to put on and head out the door. As we climb into the car I can't help but tell her...
"Basketball honey, it's a basketball game I need to watch. Not baseball."
She smoothly responds...
"Oh, right. I just thought you said the Mets, not the Nets, you stuttering ####."
Somewhat shocked by this rare display of confidence and moxie from such a sweet little package I actually think to myself...
"Wow! She really does know a little bit about sports, AND she doesn't put up with my #### This one might be a keeper."
But that thought doesn't last too long because I then remember how I did say that it was Game 5 of a (Playoff) Series and, it being May and all, that should have been more than enough for her to rule out the possibility that I said the Mets and not the Nets, so I turn to her and say...
"You manipulative, lying piece of..... Ya know what, just take me back to the apartment!" (I make her drive whenever possible. My laziness truly has no bounds).
But knowing full well that we are now much closer to the restaurant, and more importantly a television, than we are to my apartment she says...
"The 2nd period's probably about to start right now. Do you REALLY want to turn around and go all the way back home?"
As much as I hate to ever admit this, she has a solid point (calling the 2nd half the 2nd period not withstanding) and I realize now I've pretty much been played like a fiddle.
And this is just one of the many ways my girlfriend tricks me out of the cave and into a social setting, all so she can make believe I really am the boyfriend she wants me to be (and probably more importantly to her, the loving boyfriend she keeps telling her friends I am!)
AND where, quite torturously, my only link to the world of sports usually ends up being my trusty cell phone (which will inevitably get between 50 and 75 percent more of my attention throughout the course of the night than my girlfriend will).
But sometimes I get lucky and find a nearby television where I can at the very least catch the final few minutes of the game du jour while bonding with all the other poor schleps whose girlfriends and wives will inevitably cheat on them (no doubt with some BMW-driving Metrosexual who couldn't tell you who the Yankee's closer is!) long before the Mets ever win another World Series!
Life truly is a series of difficult (or easy depending on your perspective) decisions that pave the way to a future we (usually) deserve. If your priorities are "out of whack" your life will surely follow suit...
So, clearly, the moral to this story is...
Do yourself a favor and get rid of the girlfriend now! Trust me. She'll suck you dry (in a bad way). All you really need is a subscription to The Playboy Channel (DirecTV Channel 591, easiest $17 you'll spend each month) and the MLB Extra Innings Package (I'm assuming you already have The Sunday Ticket on automatic renewal).
Oh yeah, and you'll have to get a dog.
By the way...
I shouldn't have to tell you this but, just to make sure I covered all bases.... Don't even think about having sex with the dog. It'll just ruin the relationship. Everything's so awkward after that.
