When you tell a guy that you love sports, what is his reaction? The following is a transcript from a recent conversation I had with a stranger at a bar. I have recorded it to the best of my memory, but the script must come from a “Men’s Ultimate Playbook,” because it is one I have experienced numerous times over from the opposite sex. Can you relate?
Unidentified Man: “So, what do you want to do down the road?”
Me: “I love sports, so I’d really like to make my way into sports journalism. My dream job is with ESPN.”
UM: “Oh you like sports? That’s cute.”
He raises his eyebrow and smiles mischievously. Does he think I am “pulling the sports card” to impress him? There are two things I know: 1) My black dress and I do not need to display sports knowledge to impress. 2) He and his Christmas tree tie don’t stand a chance.
UM: “What’s your favorite sport?”
M: “Football.”
I sip my cranberry and vodka. He takes notice of my Ravens watch. I know where this is headed.
UM: “Really? How do you feel about the Ravens this year?”
The test. Men love to do this. After a woman claims to follow a sport, men launch into a grill session, posing questions that will assess her true knowledge of that sport. How dare we, the “fairer sex,” claim to like a sport, without providing supporting evidence?
Unfortunately for Unidentified Man, I relish this test opportunity.
M: “It’s been an up and down season, as usual. We’ve got the talent, we’re just not consistent enough. We’ll have to find a way to win on the road if we want to make it to the Super Bowl this year.”
UM: “What about Joe Flacco?”
He is clearly unimpressed by my intentionally vague response. Now he is raising the challenge by calling out specific players. Perfect.
M: “He’s having an impressive season. Our record isn’t flawless, but his numbers are high. He has about a 60 percent completion percentage for 13 touchdowns and 2,495 yards. (Thank goodness I just happened to read up on the Ravens’ stats that morning!) I’m happy with him.
The back and forth continues between us. He skeptically fires questions about NFL players, and I answer them between bored sips of my drink.
After about fifteen minutes of this “test,” he sits back and smiles, satisfied with my answers. I passed his test. Unfortunately for him, he failed mine, because I’m much more satisfied with my drink than with his company. I take advantage of the pause in the interrogation and make my exit—champion of another sports scrutiny.
This is something men have yet to understand: once you engage us in these tests, we win.
So true! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been trying to watch a game, only to be interrupted by some guy. They always seem to think you’re putting on some kind of show to impress them, hence the quizzing. I am actually watching the game..and have no interest in a guy that’s mind is blown by that novel idea!
Exactly! Being incredulous to the fact that we enjoy football is not impressive to us. How about we discuss the game like two fans, instead of the skeptical, one-sided quizzing?