As an only child, my parents each had their views of what a girl should be. Mom's vision was illustrated perfectly when she came to visit an antebellum home in Natchez, Mississippi and she saw a room decorated in pink satins, laces. She said, "oh, Martie, this is what I named you for."
Well she knew by then that it was wistful thinking. By the time I was 8 or 9, I was Daddy's girl. We went to Redskins and University of Maryland basketball and football games and Washington Senators baseball games. He taught me to golf, bowl - he even taught me to drive a stick when I was twelve around our D.C. suburb. His heroes were my heroes. I was memorizing sports statistics way before it was cool for most girls.
So now during football season, I'm the one saying - "You're going hunting today? But the Patriots are playing the Colts. What are you thinking!" And last season when it seemed the Saints were on the verge of something really big, I was the one saying, "You have to believe. They really are different this year. (Unfortunately, they've blown it this season.)
The thing is I see lots of women at those football games on TV, so I don't think it's so odd. I just hate it when February gets here and there's no football. I start counting down the months until pre-season. I'm going to get as much of my fix during bowl season and playoffs as I can, squirreling them away for the long Spring and Summer layoff.
Go, Redskins. Go, Brett. Go Drew. and for my neighbors' sakes, Go LSU.