I have a lot of opinions about football. Over the years I have been shocked to see how many females do not have an opinion, or even worse a flawed one. Little girls should be taught about football positions by preschool, as it is a real life survival skill. To simplify matters as much as possible, I will start with the Girls’ Guide to Football Positions, dating edition. It is numbered for quick and easy reference (you can thank me later).
1) Quarterbacks are sexy. Yes, everyone loves the boy throwing the ball. #1 dating choice.
2) Running backs are strong and cool. No one will begrudge you that, a solid dating choice. Just make sure he’s a real one (hint- he may not even know)
3) If you can’t date a Quarterback or a running back, a wide out is socially acceptable, a good strong choice albeit a flashy one. Also see cornerbacks.
4) Linebackers and kickoff team specialists are mean. They look really good on and off the field, but you should be wary of dating them. And never ever look them directly in the eyes, they take that as a challenge.
5) Tight Ends, Centers, Offensive Line …they are like the stage crew for the play. They are very important and if they do their job well you don’t notice them much. The unsung heroes of football, truly.
6) The defensive line can make and break a game. Their job is to make you notice the offensive line, or lack thereof.
7) And then there’s special teams. They are for underclassmen to date.
I think this sums up what girls should be taught about football positions, cliff notes style. Interestingly enough, what they don’t teach you about football positions is that sometimes it is best to ignore all of the above rankings and rules.
Quarterbacks
I dated a quarterback in high school when we were sophomores. We had a fabulous time all summer. As soon as two a days started, he broke up with me. Apparently the coaches told him he “Didn’t need any distractions” and upperclassmen told him “He would have lots of options if he didn’t have a girlfriend.” Sheesh. Round 1 to the quarterback.
We had another go summer after our senior year. We weren’t really a couple, but dated casually. I am not sure why I did it, but for some unknown reason I totally stood him up for a big festival and dance that June. I think I told him I couldn’t go, did I say I was sick? I can’t remember. What I do remember is that I went to the festival with another guy and all the quarterback’s friends saw me there. Thankfully this was before cell phones, so he didn’t find out until the next day. Round two to me.
While I was a freshman in college I ran into an SEC quarterback in a club in Fayetteville. He was an amazing physical presence, as all SEC quarterbacks are. This one went on to win the Heisman trophy. I spent about an hour with him at a cozy table and on the dance floor that night and I found him to be very smart and funny. We exchanged numbers but just didn’t click. You know he is still not married, but is a fascinating and sought out public speaker after spending 6 years in the NFL. Round three, a draw.
I say all of this to point out that quarterbacks have a lot of people in their heads all the time. Coaches, trainers, other players, and all of these people are telling them what they should and shouldn’t do. This includes their dating life. Point in fact- Tom Brady. How many of us heard about Giselle lashing out at his receivers for not catching the ball in the Super Bowl? Well, all of us because every major news outlet called on Tom to put her in check and forbid her from speaking about football ever again. Yes, you will deal with crud like this if you date a quarterback, but if they look like Tom maybe you won’t care.
Running backs
I was set up with a running back in college. He lived in the athletic dorm and I had seen him around. He was touted as an underclassman that was not receiving much playing time, but dark haired and blue eyed and gorgeous, OK? Come to find out he was a scholarship baseball player that had walked on to the football team, but did not receive a scholarship so he went back to baseball.
You see, in my experience this is what you are dealing with in running backs. Either they are or they aren’t but they just want you think they are. They are so confusing sometimes it’s best not to try. Their heads are so wrapped around the rules from above (yes, guys know which the best dating football positions are) so they just can’t let it go. If you can find a real running back, it is a little something like finding a real man’s man. They are highly valued and few and far between. IF you find one, keep him.
Back to Toby, I tried to work through it. I thought maybe he would eventually be a little more than a baseball player. After all, he spent lots of time in the gym. I went out with him a couple times but just could not forget (no matter how awesome his eyes were, no matter how much he looked like a running back) that he was trying just a little too hard to be one. So I ended it. Round 4? I am too confused to call.
Receivers
Since I did dedicate a lot of my dating time in the quarterback category, I never worked my way down to the receivers. I do love their flair and am not sure why it never happened. I still adamantly maintain that a wide out (even a cornerback which is not necessarily a receiver but most men would understand why I would place them in this category) would be an excellent choice to date as long as you don’t mind them having as many styling products and as much jewelry as you do. These guys spend lots of time in front of the mirror. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing, because they are tall and spend a lot of time in the weight room too. They have great smiles and your Mama will love them. Daddy may be a bit on the apprehensive side. I think that is part of what gives them extra points ;)
Linebackers and Kickoff team specialists
These guys are pure unadulterated testosterone. They are not the guys whose mothers taught them how to open doors for ladies or to turn the other cheek when someone says something they do not like. If born in another time they would be gladiators. Most are nothing more than one man wrecking crews that see little if anything but their target. They like playstation and whiskey. They love the gym and hitting things hard. They love their boys. This is generally not a situation you can win, and it is best to proceed with extreme caution if you just can’t help yourself and were dumb enough to look one of them in the eyes. Try to mentally prepare yourself for a very near future involving ice cream, sad songs, and long conversations with girlfriends about why all men are jerks.
Tight Ends, Centers, Offensive Linemen
These are the guys whose job is to learn all of the plays for the other guys. I know you’re thinking that they should all know all the plays. Well, yes they should, but come on what world are you living in? Offensive linemen salaries rank third highest in the NFL, just behind quarterbacks and defensive ends. They are paid for their brawn and mostly for their brains. They are dependable on and off the field and would be probably the best dating choice out there if young women knew what experienced women did. If it weren’t for the flair of the wide outs, the physicality of the linebackers and the prestige of the ‘backs, maybe the younger girls wouldn’t get distracted away from the good guys. These are the guys to marry if you figure it out before it’s too late and they’re already taken.
Defensive Line
These guys are again, kinda mean. It is their job to hit and break through the offensive line, whose job it is to hold and protect their Quarterback. Where the offensive side is just and heroic, the defensive side is… well, they are just villainous marauders. Intent on securing and hurting their targets, putting an end to any valid course towards the goal line, this is what they do. The guys who played for New Orleans and were paid bounties? You guessed it, they were defensive linemen. You can imagine how successful a foray into dating one of these individuals would be. Look forward to a future where you learn about your ended relationship through his status on facebook.
Special Teams
Last but not least, special teams. There are many who disagree with my assertion that special teams are for rookies and underclassmen to date. Many would point to the end of the year footage of greatest plays of the year (any year) and all the 90+ yard t-down returns made by these guys. Yes, they are talented and not only on special teams because they are waiting to move up to another position on offense or defense. Having said this, most of the highlight film players also double as a receiver or cornerback and we have already covered their dating desirability above. As for the others- well ladies my advice is to start with them and then move your way up to another position as it becomes available. Don’t worry about it- they will most likely do the same thing and maybe you will be going out with him again… but as a cornerback next time.
Best of luck to my lady friends and until next time, Go Hogs!
Monday, August 20, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
I run
I run.
It is 2:13 p.m., June in South Texas, 106 degrees. I don’t care. I run every day at 2:15 because it is the time I have. I work 11-2, 5-close most days (Mondays off) and this is the way I clear my mind.
I run because I don’t have to think. I run because for that hour or so I can feel the wind in my hair and can feel life in my veins. I run because I don’t have to put on any fronts for others. I run like a maniac because it hurts and I want to feel something, anything at all. I run because I have little to no self-worth but on this track I am hoping to find it.
I run because I left him.
I really had no other choice but to leave. I tried and tried, God knows I tried. I am now a broken individual and not sure that there are enough pieces of me left to put together, but I’m running to try.
This is at least partly my fault- if I wasn’t so broken maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But it might have happened again, I don’t know. And so I left him. And so I run.
Our friends look sad when they see me. They don’t know what to say, and so we simply don’t speak of him at all. He hurt me the way no one else ever has. He meant everything to me, for heaven’s sakes he held my hand while my mother took her last breath. We were both 17 at the time, just kids. I was foolish to think it would end well. Or not end at all.
A friend told me that even if I asked for his new number he would never give it to me. I am glad to have that friend in my life so that I don’t have the option of getting in touch with him. I am sad that friend has feelings for me I cannot return. I don’t want to hurt him, so I run.
Sometimes when I’m on the track I think I just found the right person at the wrong time. Can I really and fairly have expected him to do everything right? Well, I sure as hell expect him to respect me more than he did. Will we get through this? Will he ever want me again?
I run because I want him back.
Maybe I’ll get tan and toned. Maybe when he comes back to town he will hear I am doing well, looking great. It would feel good for him to notice, to care. I know he cares. He calls my sister though I won’t speak to him. Not yet.
I run because I have lost everything but I am looking forward. Someday soon I will start to feel better. With nothing left to lose you have everything to gain.
I want to feel again.
It is 2:13 p.m., June in South Texas, 106 degrees. I don’t care. I run every day at 2:15 because it is the time I have. I work 11-2, 5-close most days (Mondays off) and this is the way I clear my mind.
I run because I don’t have to think. I run because for that hour or so I can feel the wind in my hair and can feel life in my veins. I run because I don’t have to put on any fronts for others. I run like a maniac because it hurts and I want to feel something, anything at all. I run because I have little to no self-worth but on this track I am hoping to find it.
I run because I left him.
I really had no other choice but to leave. I tried and tried, God knows I tried. I am now a broken individual and not sure that there are enough pieces of me left to put together, but I’m running to try.
This is at least partly my fault- if I wasn’t so broken maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But it might have happened again, I don’t know. And so I left him. And so I run.
Our friends look sad when they see me. They don’t know what to say, and so we simply don’t speak of him at all. He hurt me the way no one else ever has. He meant everything to me, for heaven’s sakes he held my hand while my mother took her last breath. We were both 17 at the time, just kids. I was foolish to think it would end well. Or not end at all.
A friend told me that even if I asked for his new number he would never give it to me. I am glad to have that friend in my life so that I don’t have the option of getting in touch with him. I am sad that friend has feelings for me I cannot return. I don’t want to hurt him, so I run.
Sometimes when I’m on the track I think I just found the right person at the wrong time. Can I really and fairly have expected him to do everything right? Well, I sure as hell expect him to respect me more than he did. Will we get through this? Will he ever want me again?
I run because I want him back.
Maybe I’ll get tan and toned. Maybe when he comes back to town he will hear I am doing well, looking great. It would feel good for him to notice, to care. I know he cares. He calls my sister though I won’t speak to him. Not yet.
I run because I have lost everything but I am looking forward. Someday soon I will start to feel better. With nothing left to lose you have everything to gain.
I want to feel again.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Cody
“Marry me.”
Looking at him all I could think of to do was laugh nervously. The me-of-10-years-ago would have never believed I would be standing right here right now receiving a marriage proposal from Cody. Hell, I would have never imagined being cool enough to rank being at this party at his house. I looked up at him nervously, biting my lip.
“I’m serious! Marry me. You know I’ve been after you since you were 11.”
Now that was taking it a little too far. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You promised me then if I didn’t throw you out of line you would date me in high school.”
I can’t believe he remembers that. “Cody- middle school and high school have come and gone so you missed your dating chance. As a matter of fact, I would have dated you in a heartbeat and I think you must have forgotten I existed.”
“Well, I’m trying to remedy that oversight now. Marry me.”
He is simply incorrigible. “You are ridiculous. Seriously, Cody- sharing a moment at the middle school lunch stand in 1989 does not the basis for a marriage make. You aren’t serious, you don’t love me. You just love that little kid that wouldn’t take any crap from you.”
“Well, I do love that 6th grader you were but I much prefer your figure these days.”
I throw my head back and have to laugh. Cody is 23 years old, blonde haired and blue eyed, about 6’1” with the build that screams he’s been working hard on the ranch for years. He is quite a catch- funny as hell, attractive, and he is looking me dead in the eye. This man in front of me- a good, stand up man- was trying to right a wrong that he didn’t do. Looking at him watching me laugh, he has a confused look on his face. Damn, I think he is serious…
“Crap woman! I am trying to propose here. I don’t care whose baby this is, if it’s yours it’s gonna be beautiful and I would be honored to raise the little heathen as my own. Shit, I would do that if we weren’t married but I would much prefer you here making my breakfast every morning and in my bed every night.”
I blush. “Cody- this is the most misguided attempt at bedding me I have ever encountered and I have encountered many a misguided attempt.”
At this point, the crowd comes in. Sharon, overhearing my last comment only, buts in with a story of her own. “You remember that time that we were on 6th Street and Nikki Sixx told you that you would look great in some ink? I thought I was gonna die!” Everyone loves the Nikki Sixx story. “The Nikki Sixx encounter of 1995” is the kind of thing that people in Fredericksburg say only happens to me. I have to disagree, as I am quite sure there have been more than a few girls that Nikki Sixx has hit on over the duration of his illustrious career.
While everyone is laughing about that and mentioning other celebrity run-ins in Austin, I look up at Cody. He is smiling, and looking in on the conversation, peeling the label of his Lone Star. Then he looks up at me, through me. I don’t know what to do.
“Cody.” I take him by the hand and we walk outside into the Texas night. How did I get here? Here at Cody’s house and in this predicament if you can call it that. I am 20 years old- 21 in a month- and pregnant. Everyone in this small town knows my business. My father can’t even look at me. My grandmother has Alzheimer’s and when I call her to talk about what I have done she forgets who she is speaking with. I look again at this man in front of me, this damn good looking man that I have absolutely no romantic feelings for at all who is promising me the world.
Tears start to form in my eyes, “I know what you are trying to do and I appreciate it. There are girls all over town who would drop everything in a minute to accept your offer. You deserve one of them and not one like me that is hesitating.”
He reaches up and wipes the tear off my left cheek with his calloused thumb. “Maybe I have already had them and maybe I want you.”
“Maybe that is because you have not had me and you will get tired of me when you do.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“I know, because I am not going to say yes” as I laugh.
Cody looks wronged, and it hurts me. I take his hands and kiss his cheek.
“Thanks, Cody. I’m the happiest girl in the county tonight. I wish I could say yes to you, I really do.” And with that I walk to my car. I don’t look back. I just get in and take off down the kolege drive.
Looking at him all I could think of to do was laugh nervously. The me-of-10-years-ago would have never believed I would be standing right here right now receiving a marriage proposal from Cody. Hell, I would have never imagined being cool enough to rank being at this party at his house. I looked up at him nervously, biting my lip.
“I’m serious! Marry me. You know I’ve been after you since you were 11.”
Now that was taking it a little too far. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You promised me then if I didn’t throw you out of line you would date me in high school.”
I can’t believe he remembers that. “Cody- middle school and high school have come and gone so you missed your dating chance. As a matter of fact, I would have dated you in a heartbeat and I think you must have forgotten I existed.”
“Well, I’m trying to remedy that oversight now. Marry me.”
He is simply incorrigible. “You are ridiculous. Seriously, Cody- sharing a moment at the middle school lunch stand in 1989 does not the basis for a marriage make. You aren’t serious, you don’t love me. You just love that little kid that wouldn’t take any crap from you.”
“Well, I do love that 6th grader you were but I much prefer your figure these days.”
I throw my head back and have to laugh. Cody is 23 years old, blonde haired and blue eyed, about 6’1” with the build that screams he’s been working hard on the ranch for years. He is quite a catch- funny as hell, attractive, and he is looking me dead in the eye. This man in front of me- a good, stand up man- was trying to right a wrong that he didn’t do. Looking at him watching me laugh, he has a confused look on his face. Damn, I think he is serious…
“Crap woman! I am trying to propose here. I don’t care whose baby this is, if it’s yours it’s gonna be beautiful and I would be honored to raise the little heathen as my own. Shit, I would do that if we weren’t married but I would much prefer you here making my breakfast every morning and in my bed every night.”
I blush. “Cody- this is the most misguided attempt at bedding me I have ever encountered and I have encountered many a misguided attempt.”
At this point, the crowd comes in. Sharon, overhearing my last comment only, buts in with a story of her own. “You remember that time that we were on 6th Street and Nikki Sixx told you that you would look great in some ink? I thought I was gonna die!” Everyone loves the Nikki Sixx story. “The Nikki Sixx encounter of 1995” is the kind of thing that people in Fredericksburg say only happens to me. I have to disagree, as I am quite sure there have been more than a few girls that Nikki Sixx has hit on over the duration of his illustrious career.
While everyone is laughing about that and mentioning other celebrity run-ins in Austin, I look up at Cody. He is smiling, and looking in on the conversation, peeling the label of his Lone Star. Then he looks up at me, through me. I don’t know what to do.
“Cody.” I take him by the hand and we walk outside into the Texas night. How did I get here? Here at Cody’s house and in this predicament if you can call it that. I am 20 years old- 21 in a month- and pregnant. Everyone in this small town knows my business. My father can’t even look at me. My grandmother has Alzheimer’s and when I call her to talk about what I have done she forgets who she is speaking with. I look again at this man in front of me, this damn good looking man that I have absolutely no romantic feelings for at all who is promising me the world.
Tears start to form in my eyes, “I know what you are trying to do and I appreciate it. There are girls all over town who would drop everything in a minute to accept your offer. You deserve one of them and not one like me that is hesitating.”
He reaches up and wipes the tear off my left cheek with his calloused thumb. “Maybe I have already had them and maybe I want you.”
“Maybe that is because you have not had me and you will get tired of me when you do.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“I know, because I am not going to say yes” as I laugh.
Cody looks wronged, and it hurts me. I take his hands and kiss his cheek.
“Thanks, Cody. I’m the happiest girl in the county tonight. I wish I could say yes to you, I really do.” And with that I walk to my car. I don’t look back. I just get in and take off down the kolege drive.
Friday, March 9, 2012
George Strait and Scott Staudt
Sitting here listening to some George Strait “Right or Wrong” I am instantly transported back to a summer night in 1995 or 96, 18 or 19 years old, road trippin’ on back roads with Will Alberthal and Scott Staudt. Ain’t it funny how a melody can bring back a memory? Wait- I’m trying to talk about George, not Clint, lol. Back to the story…
When participating in the South Texas rite of passage also known as road trippin’, with two individuals as manly and, well, large as Will and Scott, you (if you happen to be me) end up in the back seat of the truck. It’s just how it is. This is not an episode of women’s lib gone wrong, nor is a clear case of Texas sexism. This was simply a straightforward issue of leg room. They needed a lot of it. Me- not so much.
Anyway, there I was stuffed in the back seat of Scott’s truck. The guys were up front, deep in some conversation about something. If I had to guess I would say their conversation had something to do with weightlifting or car stereos or maybe where was Bullet Haas. So I was left to entertain myself until the topic came back around to something that interested me, such as guns, tanks (Texan for a “pond”) skipping rocks, something of that nature. And entertain myself I did.
The radio was cranked up with Scott’s windows down, and we were rocking George Strait’s “Right or Wrong.” Since I was uninterested in the topic at hand, I sang my little heart out along with George. I love George just as much as any Texan should- as a matter of fact I think someone should make a bumper sticker proclaiming his greatness along the lines of the “God Bless John Wayne” one I see so often when in West Texas. But I do have ONE tiny little problem with him (gasp). When my voice sings George Strait, he hits me right in the “break” and I have to jump back and forth from chest voice to head voice a whole lot. To the trained musician, this is a pretty laughable and avoidable situation. They are thinking to themselves, “She needs to wait this one out and try to sing next time Clint comes on the radio.” But to Scott Staudt that night, I was a fabulous new discovery.
Scott got all quiet and said, “I didn’t know you could sing!” He kept saying, “Sing this! Sing that!” And he pulled out Strait out of the Box and clicked through hit after hit. I was happy to oblige him on that awesome summer night, singing with my arm hanging out the open window. The night seemed to last forever. We drove, skipped rocks in the Pedernales, stropped at JEK’s a time or two, and just lived. I remember the air on that night and am thankful for those nights gone by with old friends.
As I sit here today at 35, I am watching the rain and singing “Right or Wrong,” ignoring the breaks. Smiling. Thanks, Scott.
When participating in the South Texas rite of passage also known as road trippin’, with two individuals as manly and, well, large as Will and Scott, you (if you happen to be me) end up in the back seat of the truck. It’s just how it is. This is not an episode of women’s lib gone wrong, nor is a clear case of Texas sexism. This was simply a straightforward issue of leg room. They needed a lot of it. Me- not so much.
Anyway, there I was stuffed in the back seat of Scott’s truck. The guys were up front, deep in some conversation about something. If I had to guess I would say their conversation had something to do with weightlifting or car stereos or maybe where was Bullet Haas. So I was left to entertain myself until the topic came back around to something that interested me, such as guns, tanks (Texan for a “pond”) skipping rocks, something of that nature. And entertain myself I did.
The radio was cranked up with Scott’s windows down, and we were rocking George Strait’s “Right or Wrong.” Since I was uninterested in the topic at hand, I sang my little heart out along with George. I love George just as much as any Texan should- as a matter of fact I think someone should make a bumper sticker proclaiming his greatness along the lines of the “God Bless John Wayne” one I see so often when in West Texas. But I do have ONE tiny little problem with him (gasp). When my voice sings George Strait, he hits me right in the “break” and I have to jump back and forth from chest voice to head voice a whole lot. To the trained musician, this is a pretty laughable and avoidable situation. They are thinking to themselves, “She needs to wait this one out and try to sing next time Clint comes on the radio.” But to Scott Staudt that night, I was a fabulous new discovery.
Scott got all quiet and said, “I didn’t know you could sing!” He kept saying, “Sing this! Sing that!” And he pulled out Strait out of the Box and clicked through hit after hit. I was happy to oblige him on that awesome summer night, singing with my arm hanging out the open window. The night seemed to last forever. We drove, skipped rocks in the Pedernales, stropped at JEK’s a time or two, and just lived. I remember the air on that night and am thankful for those nights gone by with old friends.
As I sit here today at 35, I am watching the rain and singing “Right or Wrong,” ignoring the breaks. Smiling. Thanks, Scott.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)