I wish I liked basketball. Really, I do. I had never watched a day of football in my life until I met my husband. We only had one tv when we moved in together, so if we wanted to spend Sundays together, I had to adapt to football. I watched, I asked questions, I learned. The we moved to Knoxville while he attended the University of Tennessee and I suddenly surrounded by orange…and football mania.
I will say it was not a gradual descent into the mecca of college football that defines the SEC. I jumped in…to the deep end. That first game in a stadium that holds over 100,000 screaming, stomping fans. Well, there is nothing like it, really. I became a fan of Tennessee football and later, a fan of Peyton Manning. Please don’t make me explain who he is. If you’re reading this, and you don’t know, you mis-clicked and need to back out of this blog slowly. Turn the light off when you leave.
There came a time when my Peyton graduated and moved onto the NFL. I became an Indy Colts fan (which is no easy feat when you grew up in Baltimore and lived there in 1984), then a Denver Broncos fan (also not easy because…well John Elway.) I learned all about fantasy football, I have spent many a Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Thursday watching and loving football. But basketball…I just can’t.
So, March is a rough ride for me in a house full of guys. Seemingly, there is a game on 24/7. That might be an exaggeration, but it feels like it’s not. So, I wait. For April. For the madness to go away.