I don’t have cable, and my favorite football team is playing their biggest rival on a Monday night, on cable. I go to my favorite sports bar which is down the block from our city’s downtown arena, where a big nu-metal concert is going on.
The bar is empty except for me, and in the third quarter a group of two older couples obviously coming from or going to the concert come in. They load the digital jukebox with nu-metal songs. The football commentary disappears and Disturbed songs take over.
The bartender, as invested in the game as I am — it’s an extremely close and hotly contested game, as games between these two teams tend to be — switches the audio feed back and offers the couples refunds.
For the remainder of the game, all four take up seats a foot behind me and loudly and vociferously decide they are adamant fans of my team’s rival. They’re not doing anything technically wrong that the bartender can kick them out for, but they’re being total jerks, including surrounding me to shout cheers for my team losing on a last-second field goal.
After I close out my tab, the bartender takes my pint glass, refills it to the brim, and leans in and says, “Kill that; don’t kill them,” and lets me keep the souvenir pint glass advertising my favorite seasonal beer.
Didn’t make the loss any better, but it helped deal with a group of real-life trolls.
(I am roughly eight years old. I have never been athletically gifted, and this is an example. In gym, we are playing a type of dodgeball where one of the rules is no running with the ball. I have just caught a ball and I start to run.)
Teacher: “[My Name], no running with the ball!”
Me: “Oh, sorry!”
(I start to walk very slowly.)
Teacher: “What did I say? No running!”
Me: “Is this still running to you?”
(I start to walk even more slowly.)
Teacher: “No, you can’t run with the ball!”
(Now I’m completely confused and just stand there, looking at her.)
Teacher: “When you are holding the ball, you have to stay in place; you can’t move around.”
Me: “Oh… that’s what that means.”
(I’m doing warm-ups with my cross country team. It should be noted that the cross country team has a rivalry with the football team. As we’re running by the football team’s practice, this happens.)
Football Coach: *sees the cross country team running by, turns to one of his athletes* “DON’T LET THOSE RUNNERS BEAT YOU. G**D*** IT, YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT I’LL DO IF THEY BEAT YOU!”
Entire Cross Country Team: *sprints as fast as we all can*
(I’m a female in my mid-twenties, and have just started a new job. One of the upper managers, who is in his early sixties, has come over to my desk to introduce himself. Somehow we get on the subject of football. I’ve been watching football with my dad since I was ten.)
Manager: “You watch football?”
Me: “Yep! My favorite team is [Hometown Team].”
Manager: “So, if you know football, tell me about [My Team’s Quarterback]. What do you think of him?”
(This happened several times at my previous job; guys don’t believe that a girl can like football. I feel an evil grin spread across my face.)
Me: “Well, I think he should stop throwing to [Wide Receiver] in triple coverage. That’s just asking for an interception! We’ve got so many great wide receivers, and he never uses them. Maybe his judgement has been clouded by the number of hits he’s taken. I guess that’s not his fault. The offensive line gets overrun by opposing defenses on every play. But I don’t want to talk about our offensive line. It’s the worst.”
(The manager is staring at me, open-mouthed.)
Manager: “Um, hmm. I, uh, don’t actually know that much about football. So, I guess I can’t comment.” *walks away*
(I told my dad the story a couple days later. He got a good laugh out of it.)
(I’m at rehearsals for an upcoming play with my local players’ society. I’ve gone into the kitchen in the village hall where a group of teens, who are also part of the play, are talking.)
Teen #1: Hey, [My Name], what team do you support?”
Me: “The Poole Pirates.”
Teen #1: “Who?!”
Me: “The Poole Pirates! Best speedway team ever.”
Teen #2: “We were on about football.”
Me: “Well, you should have said.”
Teen #1: “Why do you even support them? You’re not even from Dorset!”
Me: “What football team do you support?”
Teen #1: “Chelsea.”
Me: “You’re not from the Chelsea area, so why do you support them?”
Teen #1: “Whatever.”
(They all went back to talking about football and just ignored me.)
