The Widow of Yucaipa

It's official. I am a soccer widow. I want to know who took my husband and left me with some crazy bald guy whose butt is stuck to my sofa! He is addicted to soccer.

In the eight years I have known Randy, I've witnessed him watch sports only half-dozen times, max. Although he will testify to being a passionate sports fan, I have never actually witnessed such fervor. The times he was actually watching sports, I assumed it was due to abundant beer present. But this whole world cup soccer thing has done something funny to him. He sets his alarm clock for 6am so that he can get up, shower, get dressed and then watch soccer in our living room for 8-10 hours (or until he has to leave for work). He yells at the TV quite a bit, and schedules any kitchen or restroom breaks around half-time (or whatever it's called).

I have heard of this phenomenon from other women, but this is the first time I have actually witnessed it in my own home. I must say that it is a bit strange. Do other men normally drop random sports facts into daily conversation where it otherwise did not belong? Mine does that now. Why do they need to go have a beer after the game because, "my team lost"? What was that 6-pack of beer for during the game? Well, I better go check it out... I can hear him yelling at the TV again. Time to pretend I know what's going on and then feign some serious enthusiasm about it. 'Cause that's what a good wife does, you know.