I need more pink clothing

My brother’s girlfriend is over today. And the Notre Dame, Michigan State game is on. I’ve spent 2 quarters attempting to explain to her things like “offsides” “holding” and what it is to know and love my family on a Saturday during college football season. I can see that look in her eyes. She thinks we’re crazy. And I’m starting to wonder if she’s right.

I am a girl who loves sports. I watch them. I used to play them. I am pretty knowledgeable about most of them. I love hockey. I love Notre Dame football. I can tell you why Peter Forsberg can lick me and I could school you in a game of horse. But I’m starting to feel rather *alone* in my girly world of athletics. Yes, I do have other girlfriends who share my world. Sarah, for instance, is an NFL fanatic. The maid of honor at my wedding still plays softball/volleyball/bowls, etc. in regular leagues. But they are, sadly, the only few other women I know who can even, on a small level, relate.

In part, I know sports because of where I grew up and how I grew up. The suburbs of Detroit meant hockey, bowling, college football, and even a Tigers game here and there. The ponds froze around January and you laced up. Girl or not. My Dad BUILT a rink in our backyard every winter. In the Fall, I played football at the park with the guys. Summer’s meant one sports camp or another, followed by endless games of basketball in the backyard. I was a varsity basketball player as a freshman in High School and named Chairman of the Boards by the University of Michigan girl’s basketball camp. My Dad played hockey on Sundays and Thursdays. Bowled on Fridays and Softball on Saturdays. My brother earned a full ride scholarship for baseball to Eastern Michigan University. For my sweet 16 birthday I was given, as my BIG gift, an autographed Steve Yzerman Red Wings jersey. That was at 16. I never thought this was out of the ordinary. I never questioned it.

To be really, really fair…my Dad may or maynot (depending on who is reading this) have maybe of wagered some money on college/professional sports while I was a child. I may, or may not, have answered the phone at age 8 and given grown men the line on the days games. The over. The under. And I may or may not have said to my Dad on more than one occasion “Bernie wants $50 on the Lions and the Under.”

So maybe, just maybe, I know more than I should about sports. This helped me with the guys. I am pretty sure I had at least three boyfriends that dated me simply because I could keep score in the dugout during their Friday night bar league softball game.

But its days like today, with poor, confused Houseboy’s girlfriend looking at me blankly when I tell her NOT to RSVP to a party on a Saturday for both her and my brother if ND is playing that day…that I wonder if I’m just a little strange and I need even more pink clothes.


  1. I don’t do football. But that doesn’t mean I wear pink. I mean … just look at me.

  2. But it would look so nice. Maybe a nice pink brooch? And who knew brooch was spelled that way????

  3. Erin, I feel your pain. My dad was a softball playing, football maniac, tavern owner (a sports bar no less) and all around sports nut. I knew how to do “pools” and I kept score for his softball teams, I played volleyball, softball and even reffed v-ball games.

    When I met my husband and he didn’t like or play sports, I was like…”we won’t last a minute together!” He’s a hunter and fisherman.

    Needless to say opposites attract! Our kids will have the best of both worlds. Or so I’d like to think.

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