Women Who Run with the Pigskin

There was an incident at work yesterday. An incident which set me to thinking about this idea of women+football= joke punchline.

Brandon, an easy-going, jovial fellow I work with, appeared to be a football-following kind of guy and I asked if he had any recommendations for a good bar where one could watch the NFL on Sundays. During the course of the conversation I asked who he cheered for and he said, "The Indianapolis Colts." And I, thrilled, put both hands up in the air, ready for the double-five, and said "Give it up for the Colts!"

To which he responded, "How long have you been a fan? Or are you like all those women who just like Peyton Manning in the commercials?"

I was shocked. SHOCKED. "Colts fan since '98," I shot back. "Indianapolis takes Peyton Manning as the first pick of the NFL draft. University of Tennessee graduate. I was there when we went three and thirteen. I was there during the Jim Moira 'playoffs? playoffs? you're talkin' about playoff?' years!"

Brandon thawed instantly and our conversation ended with him giving me a promising suggestion for a good place to watch games. Yet it got me to thinking (and this is never a good thing)...

He didn't say "Are you one of those fans who just like Peyton Manning in the commercials?" He said women. What is this attitude about women and football?

I like football. No, scratch that, I love football. I do. I don't watch it to keep my husband happy. I'm not in it for the funny commercials, the t-shirts and ball caps. I own my own jersey (two of 'em, both Manning, one Vols jersey #16 and of course, Indy #18). During the week, I hum the Monday Night Football theme music all the time.

More proof? I think what the Chargers did to Marty Schottenheimer was shoddy. I haven't made my mind up about Tiki Barber and the Giants; it feels like a loyalty versus honesty debate to me. I think Ed Hochuli and Mike Carey are the best head refs in the NFL (I also love Ed's arms and any opportunity for him to point out who has possession of the ball makes me happy. But you know what? Men have a whole host of eye-candy; they're called cheerleaders.) I believe in the Madden curse and every time Vince Young takes a hard hit, I worry about him (though I don't care for the Titans owner Bud Adams; he's a bit too Jerry Jones for me).

College football? I'm amazed that SFU is second in the country (though I'm pretty sure they lost last night). As a Vols fan, I've been defending Coach Fulmer for the last three years, but now I'm thinking it's time to turn over the reigns. I hope the SEC doesn't destroy itself (like so many previous years) and all teams end up with at least two losses. I wonder if John David Booty will be able to finish this season strong (and I love the fact he was interviewed on ESPN and admitted to doing Pilates to strengthen his "core." New agey and hard-hitting- what a combo!).

OK, I can't play call. I can't look at the offense's formation and say "Slant right to the outside somethingsomethingsomething." I might say "Manning puts it up top to Harrison" but frankly, if you're Peyton Manning and you've got Marvin Harrison, that's just good business sense. I pay attention when The Hubba explains nuances of the play calls or the cover-two defense the Bears run, but I'll probably never understand it the way he does.

And in real life, I'm no Sporty Spice. I'm not athletic and my only brush with playing football came in high school, during a powder puff game, when I grabbed at the girl's flag and accidentally pulled her shorts down. I felt awful and volunteered to cheer from the sidelines for the rest of the game.

But I do recognize pass interference. I know when the little blue flag goes down it means change of possession. I get how a challenge works and I understand the difference between one-foot in college versus both-feet in the pros.
How many men would have to give the same kind of list?

This isn't a "men against women" argument. I love watching the male-football dynamic and I recognize and appreciate they make up the backbone of this sport. But it's time to let go of disbelief about females as true fans too.

Pigskin lovin' girls out there, I ask, has this is ever happened to you? You and the boyfriend/husband/brother/guy friend head to a friend's Sunday afternoon party. You're jazzed, you're wearing your team's gear, you can't wait to see your boys take down those lousy so-and-so's. You're ready for a day of hard hits, beautiful passes, exciting turn-overs and the always charming Mr. Hochuli. You walk into the party, you're greeted and while your guy is herded off to the game room, you're directed towards the kitchen with the other girls. What...?

I know I'm not the only female watching. Miz Knotty and I discussed SEC football every Monday last year. I belong to a Football-Along KAL and trust me, football is the discussion way more than yarn. We're out here and we're cheering!

It's time to ring in the changes! Time to say it loud and proud: "I'm female, I watch football, get used to it!" I'm not a cheerleader, I'm not one of those busty blondes in the tight referee costume from a beer commercial. My uniform is a pair of jeans, my team's colors and my heart. Tell the world ladies! I came to play!



And you know what? I do love Peyton Manning in all those commercials.