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phillies

October 28, 2008
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Little did I know.  I was young, and naive.  I had read all the right books on marriage.  I’d read about all those couch potato husbands who sit with beers in hand in front of their widescreen TV, watching football and generally ignoring their wives.  Andy liked sports, sure, but we would never have that problem.  He hated beer and we wouldn’t have cable.  Problem solved.  Sports?  Not a conflict in our marriage!

So I prepared for all the normal things responsible young women prepare for in marriage–socks on the floor, cooking nutritious meals, serving your husband by putting love notes in their backpack.  And then we got married.  First of all, Andy never leaves his socks on the floor… it’s his schoolbooks.  But more importantly, I discovered that not only is baseball even MORE time consuming than football, there are many more ways to get it than on TV–sitting in the car listening to the radio and updating the phillies.com homepage every three minutes are both very effective ways to follow the game!

This was fine.  I can live with it.  It’s sort of quaint, you know, listening to baseball on the radio–very wholesome and American.  And then the Phillies won the division championship.  Then they won all these other series that I could not tell you what they are.  Then suddenly my husband is wildly cheering at two a.m. when they win their second World Series game.  Then I am in bed, sick, with a cold, unable to go to sleep because my snuggly husband is too busy leaping around the living room excitedly watching the Phillies win their third game (he came in at one point to report that they were 10-2–so why bother continuing to watch?  I honestly couldn’t fathom any responsible answer to this.).  Now tonight, I again am bracing myself for another long evening of baseball.  Telling myself to hang in there for just one more night.  You can be a kind, selfless and loving wife for just one more night.  Only this night, we will both be spending it with beers in hand in front of a 6-ft high-def TV screen.  Oh well.

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