From the RotoWidow files…
As we near the end of February, there’s something in the air: the unmistakable sense of March Madness. It’s an affliction many roto widows will have to endure in the coming weeks. Having dealt with this state for a few years now, I thought I’d try to provide some warning signs of this madness for all of you significant others out there who are similarly sports-saturated. If you find yourself faced with any of the 10 situations below, don’t panic. Your spouse has simply caught March Madness and will return to his or her “normal” self on April 3.
10. You find he’s repeatedly explaining to you the definition of a “Tar Heel.”
9. After every purchase he checks the air points balance on your credit card to see if he has enough to get to Atlanta.
8. He starts arranging the french fries, peas and meat loaf on his dinner plate in a bracket formation.
7. He starts rifling through your kids’ paint supplies to see if there’s enough of the right orange hue so that he can be in full support of Syracuse.
6. You ask him to pick up milk and eggs on the way home, but he arrives with bags of cheese doodles, candy corn and celery sticks for his new pet ram, which he rented from the local petting zoo.
5. When you inquire about the sudden spike to the long distance phone bill, you learn that your spouse has been calling all the tournament teams. He’s been inquiring if they are in need of an understudy for the team mascot.
4. Whenever you ask if he can do the dishes (or some other cleaning activity) he starts jumping up and down making a low humming sound in an attempt to distract you. You clue in to his plan when you see on TV that the home crowd makes that very same motion when the opposition has the ball.
3. He thinks it would be fun if you both filled out brackets – a bonding activity – but you find yourself spending way too much time wondering whether a badger or a husky would win if they were in a fight.
2. You arrive home from work on the first Thursday of the tourney to see a strange glow coming from the family room windows. No, aliens have not taken over your home. Your husband has moved every television in the house, all computer screens, and your laptop into the family room so that he can watch all the games that are on at the same time. Don’t even attempt to turn on the lights unless your brother is an electrician.
1. In an attempt at sweet talk when you’re getting intimate, he takes on the raspy tone of Dick Vitale and ends every sentence with a shout of “you’re awesome, baby!” You try to explain that “how’d you like to touch my Dickie V., baby?” is not working as a turn on.