It is amazing how many old women, and I mean old – like in their eighties – like to watch men’s professional and college ball games. Whether it’s football, baseball, or basketball, the old gals around the old folks home love to watch!
They all sit around the TV in the rec room with their glasses of iced tea and their bag of mini pretzels cheering for their respective teams. Not all of them root for the same teams, so it can get pretty contentious when Alice wants to watch the A’s and Gertrude wants to watch the Giants.
They each have the t-shirt, hat, and colored pom poms to go with their favorite teams. They cheer on USC versus Berkeley or Army versus Navy or whatever. Don’t try to call them when a game is on; they will be too busy watching the linebacker taking down an opposing player or that great second baseman hitting one out of the park.
Not being into sports much myself, I would find the male pulchritude much more interesting to watch if they played in the nude or with a minimum of protective gear hiding their kibbles and bits. Perhaps color coded jock straps? Oh my! Buns and thighs!
I do, however, appreciate a good game from the boys of summer. I like how baseball players are built – big strong biceps, nice ass, and thighs, and a cute little pot belly! It just makes me sparkle to see them!
Jocks are so funny. They all seem talk in a loud bullish voice proclaiming everything they say as if addressing a large auditorium full of people without the benefit of a microphone. Even at family gatherings their voices boom a big baritone greeting to a small child or their mothers and aunts.
Everything they say seems to be scripted. I’m sure they are coached in what to say to newscasters and interviewers alike. Being in their presence in a small room makes me think of walking through the Redwood forest. They are all so damn big! They don’t even fit in the furniture.
Everyone has their favorites, and the old gals argue over who is the best and why. They sit there munching on their salty snacks. A couple of them might even nurse a beer through a whole football game, keeping it wrapped in one of their team’s drink insulators. They have hot dogs with yellow mustard and keep a nonchalant card game going through the commercials and announcements. They are rapt during half time at which point they serve pie and coffee.
“Woo Hoo! Look at him go!” Gertrude calls out as one of her favorites steals a base, or makes a three pointer, or a touch down.
“Rah Rah!
Sis boom bah!
Kick ’em in the pants
and say, “Ha! Ha!”
It’s a friendly taunt, and no one takes offence. The next inning or quarter, Alice gets her digs in for her team.
They go one like this for years. Their husbands long dead, Alice and Gertrude have become close companions. Although they are neighbors and practically live next door, they also call each other on the phone at least once a day and maybe even three or four times if something really important is going on. But during the seasons, you can find them in front of the TV watching and cheering for the young men they recall from their youth. “Go Team! Fight! Win!”
(First published 1/10/13)
