Our high school has lots of spirit, but that didn’t help the football team, who had yet to win a game. So when our principal saw some cheerleaders sitting in the stands, he asked, “Don’t you think you girls should be down there cheering for your team?”
“I think,” one of them said, “we should be down there playing for our team.”
I was sitting behind an enthusiastic mom at my son’s Little League game. Her boy was pitching for the opposing team and she cheered as he threw wild pitch after wild pitch. The poor kid walked every batter. It was only the first inning and the score was 14–0. Then one batter finally smacked the ball.
“Oh no,” the mom wailed. “There goes his no-hitter.”
As a high-school football coach, I’m aware that student athletes tend to focus too much on sports. A fellow coach, Bob, was talking about one such player, who called him at home one night. When his wife informed the kid that Bob wasn’t home, he became frantic and said he had to speak to the coach right away.
“Just calm down, and I’ll have him call you as soon as he gets home,” the coach’s wife told him. “What’s your number?”
The flustered kid replied, “Three.”
As a Catholic, I’m partial to Notre Dame football. As a former Michigan resident, though, I also keep tabs on Michigan college teams. One Saturday afternoon, a neighbor dropped in while I was watching Notre Dame vs. Michigan State.
“Which team do you want to win?” he asked.
“Gee, I don’t know,” I replied. “I’m kind of torn between Church and State.”
Losing the Game
Driving home dejected from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, after a Mississippi-Louisiana State college football game that Ole Miss had lost 24-0, I was ignoring the speed limit and, sure enough, a Louisiana patrolman flagged me down. “You’ve got me, Officer,” I confessed as I handed him my license. “I was speeding.”
The officer confirmed that I was clocked at 72 m.p.h. But as he spoke, I noticed him stealing a peek at my game program and a pair of binoculars on the passenger seat. “Were you down for the big game?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I replied. The officer then paused for what seemed like an eternity.
“Well,” he said finally, “I guess you’ve suffered enough.”
I couldn’t believe my good fortune. But as my license was handed back to me, I felt compelled to ask a question. “Officer,” I said, “what if Ole Miss had won?”
“I’d have locked you up in a heartbeat,” came his reply. “Now keep it under 60!”
My husband bought an exercise machine to help him shed a few pounds. He set it up in the basement but didn’t use it much, so he moved it to the bedroom. It gathered dust there, too, so he put it in the living room.
Weeks later I asked how it was going. “I was right,” he said. “I do get more exercise now. Every time I close the drapes, I have to walk around the machine.”
Rooting for the Other Team
About to have a blood test, I nervously waited while the nurse tightened a tourniquet around my arm. “I understand you’re from Oklahoma,” she said. “Are you a Sooners fan?”
“Absolutely!” I replied.
“Well,” she continued as she raised the needle, “this may hurt a little. I’m from Nebraska. [/restrict]