In 1983 I married a guy who was obsessed with movies and music. He looked like a clerk at Tower Records (R.I.P.). And not just in my opinion. Whenever he was in Tower, people would ask him questions. I knew he was into baseball. I understood that as kind of a Baltimore born, NYC intellectual idiosyncracy. I learned to knit. And who isn't into basketball? Particularly those of us old enough to have enjoyed Dr. J, Kareem, Magic & Bird in their prime.
But I don't understand how under my very nose, this guy and his offspring, my little son, turned into football fanatics. Hardcore. Oh, they don't wear colors and funny hats but they opt in together making it a priority. I got my first inkling maybe ten years ago, all of a sudden this little boy started spouting football statistics. Right in front of me! Like where'd it come from??!! Sports Center! Cable news. And it never stopped. The little guy growing, watching and talking sports with his Dad, huddled on the floor, lounging on the couch. Now he's 6 feet and reads the local Sports section and Sports Illustrated with his breakfast. Their conversation continues. It's immediate. Sometimes urgent. Tons of info. I couldn't care less although sometimes they teach me and test me. It's my entree into the world of men. It's foreign. It's hilarious. It's great for them. I just still can't understand how it happened right under my very nose.