February 2, 2006

Faking Football

Jill Brooks, INtake columnist

The infancy stage of a relationship should be treated like such, with a gentle hold on its developing fontanel and an overnight bag packed full of extra clothes.

This is the time to be the person you always thought you could be, the only possible time in the course of the relationship, if it lasts, when your partner will smile while thinking, “She’s perfect,” so beef it up.

For me, this generally means keeping an open mind about things in which I have no interest: meeting hordes of new people, hanging out at sports bars, or, the worst, lying around all day watching football.

By your thirties, if you’ve never enjoyed watching football, it’s highly unlikely that you will. The Colts helped matters, but let’s not “go there.”

Kinetic enthusiasm about who got traded, who signed with which league, or who’s playing in the Super Bowl creates not a stir of sincere interest from me; still, the relationship is just getting started and my job is to fetch sticks.

I’ve learned to tolerate football, meaning I’ve learned to stare at the television and pretend I’m watching. I had no idea my adolescent talent for tuning out my father’s lectures would come in so handy later in life.

The trick is spooning with your boyfriend and diverting him from any close-ups displaying your true attention span. This is what I do. I can usually last about an hour before I make an excuse to visit the restroom or get him another beer, where I can, in private, shake off the total boredom.

When I return to the couch I sneak in a few minutes of conversation—taboo while he’s watching sporting events—and because I’m quick and bringing him a beer, he usually lets it pass.

Pass: that’s a good word to announce while you’re bored, too, as in, “Nice pass!” This proves that you’re watching and actually know some of the plays. “Pass” is my favorite because it’s so obvious.

Some other point-winning interjections might be, “Nice tackle,” “Great touchdown,” or, simply, “Run!” When I yell at a player to run I can almost feel the “she’s perfect” button being pushed.

Don’t try mentioning a field goal until you’re somewhat advanced in yours methods; field goals rarely look like they’re actually going through the yellow bars, to me.

Finally, act happy when his team wins, or really pissed when they lose, and tell him that they played a really good game, no matter what.

You’re only perfect, after all.