XOXOXO

Hugs, kisses, football

I know that some wives enjoy watching televised sporting events. But I know this only through indirect evidence, the way I know, for example, that some people eat camel meat. In my house, sporting events are watched alone.

A few weeks ago, I tried an experiment. The hypothesis was that if a man can persuade his wife to sit still in front of the TV for three hours, he can persuade her to appreciate the excitement, athleticism and strategic complexity that is a professional football game. My wife agreed to try. On that day, the Washington Redskins were playing my team, the New York Giants.

Things did not go well.

Me: This is a crucial fourth-and-short situation. The Giants can go for it or kick a field goal. From this distance, the field goal is practically a gimme, but it's only three points. So there's a complicated strategic and philosophical calculus for the coach: If they try for a first down and fail, they have to turn over the ball to the Redskins, which would totally reverse the game's momentum.

My wife: Why are the Giants wearing pink sneakers?

Me: They're not. Whoa, they're going for it!

My wife: Well, they look pink.

Me: Arrrgggghhhhh! He was held for no gain!!

My wife: Fuchsia, really.

Me: IT'S AN OLD TV SET. THE COLOR IS SCREWED UP.

My wife: Why are you yelling at me?

And so forth. By halftime, the experiment was in shambles. It had been my fault, I decided -- I hadn't come to the game well enough prepared. So we tried it again the following week, for a Sunday night game between the Giants and the Cowboys. This time, I did a lot of research. I was seeking very specific sorts of information.