Uncle Irving and Me

It's third and 15, Miami has the ball, and Dan Strock steps back, but before he can get his pass off, a slew of San Diego rushers throw him to the ground for a four yard loss.

"Did you see that Becky, did you see that?" my uncle Irving yells. "The San Diego blitz worked. That means that the Chargers sacked the quarterback. You know, tackled him before he got the chance to pass."

My uncle loves to share such enlightening insights about the game of football with me. He seems to think that because I am a female I have difficulties understanding sports. His explanations of strategy seem to imply that I have never seen a game before in my life.

It's fourth down, 35 yards to go, and the Redskins are on their own 10 yard line.

"Washington is going to punt now, because they won't be able to make the first down." Sometimes I think my uncle missed his calling; with such perception, he should have been a coach.

At least my uncle accepts the idea that a woman can be a sports fan, however ignorant he may think she is. In these days of Title IX, it may be OK to be a woman athlete, but women sports fans are still an anomaly. Go to any football stadium or baseball park, and try to find a ladies room. It's not as easy as you thought. Now imagine trying to find one when it's a little more urgent.

I was introduced to sports the way most kids are--through my parents, particularly my mother. When I was six, she took me to my first baseball game--Boston Red Sox vs. the Cleveland Indians. I still remember the score: Indians 5, Red Sox 2. Some things never change.

By the time I was eleven, my sister and I had the best baseball card collection in the neighborhood, and we were avid basketball and football fans as well. Then it was all right to be a sports fan. It was cute. "They're just tomboys, they'll grow out of it soom," my uncle would reassure himself.

But I haven't outgrown my love of sports. I still spend Sunday afternoons watching football, and summer nights at Fenway Park. "You just think that the athletes are cute," I am told. But I guess the Dallas cheerleaders add a lot to the game. There is a hell of a lot more to watching sports than ogling men. I could appreciate a Larry Bird pass whether he looked like Robert Redford or Jimmy Durante.

The women sportscasters surely don't add to the credibility of women sports fans. Phyllis George and Jayne Kennedy, both ex-Miss Americas, share their insights with us weekly. I guess having Bert Parks sing while you stroll down a runway means you know lot about sports.

I'm not asking that the only thing people talk to me about is football. I'm not asking to be quizzed on Carl Yastrzemski's batting average over the past ten years. All I'd like, in the words of Rodney Dangerfield, is "a little respect." I'd just like to watch football with my Uncle Irving some Sunday afternoon and have him ask me, "Becky, do you think they'll go for the quarterback sneak, the play action pass, or a long bomb?" and not have him explain each term.