99 New: Manfest

We went to a Bears game once at Soldier Field. My sister-in-law was married to a Bears player at the time and she wore a mink coat. She was something. It was a different time.

I like football, more on TV than in person, mostly because TV puts the first down line on the screen in yellow so it is completely clear but when you are there in the stadium the exact location of the first down line is ambiguous, the guys with the chains notwithstanding.

Going to the Bears game as the relatives of a Bears player was awkward because we were cheering for the opposition, the Green Bay Packers, and wearing Packers gear, of course, in the midst of a sea of people with C’s on their shirts. Blood is not thicker than water in many cases, football being one.

We have gone to many games at Lambeau Field, a legendary, almost holy place in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where my husband’s beloved Packers play. I would say my beloved Packers but, as it turns out, only certain players are beloved to me and about that my husband and I often differ. For instance, Brett Favre is still beloved to me but my husband has long since moved on to Aaron Rodgers, eschewing nearly everything about Brett whom I loved more because of his swagger than anything else.

Watching TV now waiting for the Vikings-Bears game (because the Packers aren’t playing tonight), I am struck by the overwhelming man-ness of all of it. The commentators, the coaches, the players, everything is so man-oriented and there is a part of me that likes that at the same time it makes me tired. I really do love men so much but I wonder if there will ever be a day that there is a panel full of women commentators, women coaches, and women players that command prime time TV and inspire people to make special casseroles for dinner and cakes with team insignias for dessert.

How did this happen? How did we all (all of us women) become such sidekicks? It’s a valid question, I think, mink coats notwithstanding.