If you’re reading this on Thursday,
September 5, tonight the
NFL season begins with a fantastic
matchup–Baltimore Ravens
at Denver Broncos. This Sunday,
September 8, football glorio usly
returns with a week-one slate
of greatly anticipated games.
Anticipated, that is, by dudes–
chicks, not so much. So, it is with
a keen sense of duty and honor
that I present my yearly warning
for those men who are in a new
relationship, or have carelessly
forgotten the potential debacle
ahead. The volatile minefield that
lies before you is a complicated,
muddled quagmire of passive
aggression, sarcastic snipes, disapproving
glares, slammed doors
and yep, sleeping on the couch.
Make no mistake my naive, inexperienced
band of brothers: this
is WAR!
Don’t panic; that’s why I’m
here. As a seasoned veteran of
pigskin combat, I am about to
provide advice, that if followed,
will allow you to keep the little
woman smiling as she cheerfully
serves you hot wings and
beer while you sit feet propped
up on her treasured oak coffee
table watching the Bears-Packers
Monday night game. So, my fellow
gridiron junkies listen up and
we can all survive another season
with a contented, satisfied
companion.
Planning for watching Sunday
football from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. is
much like preparing for a hurricane–
most of the critical preparation
is done prior to the storm
hitting. A simple yet effective
approach is to organize a romantic
dinner at an upscale restaurant
you’ve never been to before. It
demonstrates that you have taken
the time and effort to lovingly
pick a special place for her. Going
to a movie afterwards is a nice
touch; however, seek out a romcom
(romantic comedy), relationship
flick. Rotten Tomatoes is a
fantastic website to review movies
and avoid mistakes. The last
thing you want is to end up at a
Stallone, Schwarzenegger, Van
Damme reunion, action thriller
with numerous explosions and
a steep body count. Also, a few
adult beverages wouldn’t hurt.
It will relax her, and maybe, with
a little luck, she will sleep in on
Sunday.
Of course, with a 17-week season
you must be highly creative
and vary your attack. Occasionally
you may be forced to retreat
and miss an entire weekend or
two of football due to unforeseen
circumstances. You young
guys, under 30, have an inherent
danger around this time of year-
-weddings. Be aware of good
friends who might be tying the
knot soon. Subtly and often guide
them towards a Friday evening or
Saturday ceremony; or better yet,
a June wedding next year. Fortunately
no self-respecting football
fanatic would ever get hitched
between September and February
anyway. If the celebration
must be on a football Sunday, at
least make sure your buddy has
the reception in a place with multiple
big-screen TV’s and an open
bar.
This next ruse is bold and
extremely difficult to pull off;
however, it is worth a try if you
are desperate. Let’s say your wife
has her annual company picnic,
complete with human-bingo and
the dreaded three-legged race on
a Sunday when the Broncos are
playing the Patriots. Come, on,
you can’t miss Manning vs. Brady!
We’ve all tried this one back in
grade school. I like to call it the
“mom I’m sick” maneuver, or in
this case, “honey I don’t feel well”
scheme. If you get busted on this
one it’s bad news, so be careful.
First, begin showing symptoms
on Thursday. Colds are the easiest
to fake so don’t get too elaborate.
No spinal meningitis or
rickets. Start with something like,
“I was in the bank today and this
dude in front of me was coughing
and sneezing like crazy.” Or “this
lady at work left early today with
the flu.” Don’t say, “I hope I don’t
get sick.” She will see that coming
a mile away. Now comes the
tough part. For the next two days
use a fake cough, blow your nose
and sneeze. Also, it’s a nice touch
to leave dirty tissues around the
house. Wake her up at night a
few times with your contrived
symptoms. Tell her you are going
to take a hot bath; that will really
blow her mind! I know: it’s dishonest,
devious and time consuming.
However, where do you
want to be come Sunday at noon?
Home alone with a cold brew in
your hand watching Manning
throw a 60-yard TD to Decker, or
sitting on the grass in some park
eating a burnt hotdog and trying
to swat flies away from your
sweaty face?
I realize these ploys appear
sophomoric and trite. Although if
you are a true, hardcore football
junkie, always keep in mind–all’s
fair in love and war–and buddy,
this is both!
Pete Whalon, author of “The Siagon
Zoo” has called Southern California
home since age five.
