Reeling Me In

There is a reason I wear earplugs when Dearly Beloved watches sports.  Unless it’s Dick Vitale, I can take the announcers.  I can even deal with DB’s moans of agony.   What I hate is hearing the sad stories… why this game means so much to the field goal kicker–the guy who had leukemia, lost his grandmother on his birthday,  and is supporting his mother and her seven blind sisters.  If he misses a kick,  DB and the kid move on,  but I’m still sobbing 30 minutes later.

It isn’t just me.  Our daughters won’t watch with him, either.

It’s baffling because he doesn’t like those dramatic segments NBC churns out about individual athletes during the Olympics, so how is it that he can always come up with a story of his own about a player in a game?

Perhaps reading about it in the sports section is different.

Yesterday we went to the beach on a glorious 70-degree day.  Bonding time?  Well, sort of.   He takes two and three-hour walks while I start whining about 30 minutes into it.   Our arrangement is that I keep the car keys so I can leave whenever I want and he walks home.

We walked south along the shore.   Everything was perfect until we saw this:

Idyllic scene, right?  Wrong.

DB launched into a story of thievery and skullduggery.  The guy in the left side of the picture is  a “spot thief.”  He hijacked it from The Flounder Man.

There is something about that particular area that is deeper, warmer, colder, faster, slower… I can’t remember which.  The Flounder Man found it such a good spot that he went there every day, using the hexagonal window of this house as a sight line to set his poles.

Hexagon window is not a hex.

Word of his success leaked out and one day The Flounder Man came out to find that  Meany Man had come early and stolen his space.  Dearly Beloved gave me all the tragic details, interspersed with asides like which fisherman has a nephew who is a wide receiver for his favorite ACC team and something about sand fleas.  Don’t ask.

A little bit of Ernest Hemingway, a lot of Jimmy Buffett.   At least Dick Vitale wasn’t giving the color commentary.

Dearly Beloved gets the fishing report.

We continued our stroll along the shoreline after the hexagon window tale.   DB spotted The Flounder Man, who wasn’t fishing–just observing–and his cousin and started talking about the catches that day.  I took this photo after I realized that the drum/spot/mullet report was going to keep him there awhile.

As I continued on down the beach without him,  a male voice behind me said, “Are you leaving him behind? “

I laughed.

“Yes, but I took a picture so I could remember where I left him.”

The friendly stranger turned out to be a visitor to this area and as we walked along,  he told me that he and his wife were visiting here because his son was an officer on the USS Gravely,  the magnificent new ship commissioned here this weekend.  The Gravely was named for the first African-American admiral in the US Navy.

The man was rightfully proud of his son, a graduate of the Naval Academy. As we walked along the beach–barefooted– he told me that he and his wife would be going back to the snows of upstate New York later in the week. They’d come down for the commissioning ceremony and would actually be taken on the destroyer as far as Norfolk.  Exciting, indeed.

In the meantime, DB was still back with the fisherman, discussing what was biting.  The Flounder Man looked down the beach,  then turned back somewhat anxiously to DB.

“That man just walked off with your wife.”

“That’s okay.  If they turn right up there at the restaurant bar,  I’ll run after her.”

Sure.  There’s probably a ballgame on the bar TV.


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12 thoughts on “Reeling Me In

  1. And now I know why I have no athletic ability. I can’t run, throw, field, punt, or jump, and I have no backstory. The announcer would have to show a video of me snoozing in the recliner and intone, “things are going pretty well for Murr…wonder how she’ll do in the game? Who cares?” I’ll get scored on by the little bastard with the dying dog.

  2. Smart move taking a picture. That way you can say what he was wearing when he disappeared with out sounding like a negligent wife.
    Does sound like that guy moved in on you when he saw the opportunity. Wonder how that same story played out when he told his wife?
    Happy Thanksgiving.

  3. Better steer clear of the sports today. Chris Henry’s mother is going to appear and meet some of the recipients of her son’s organs. You’ll be crying the rest of the afternoon. So listen to music and enjoy your Thanksgiving!

  4. I don’t get football. They run up and down the same 100 yards over and over again. All that athleticism and they never get anywhere. Same old moves: pass, run, throw, kick…and that’s it. The only thing that’s changed in forty years, other than the steroids and the physical therapy, is the length of the hair hanging out of the helmets. No wonder the announcers start sounding like Lifetime; they are BORED.

    Happy Thanksgiving to you and Dearly B!

  5. I have a hubby who never ever watches sports, and in fact hates them and can barely bring himself to play golf once a year. I have always liked participating in sports but can’t stand watching them. 🙂

    I wish I were on the beach right now. BEAUTIFUL!!!

  6. Didn’t anybody else but me wonder why there was a chimney sticking out of the sand in the hexagon house picture…..I realized that the poor person who owns that house has NO view of the ocean….unless he stands up on his roof…that is a very short house isn’t it??

  7. That’s a good story. Of course, I think any story that mentions Jimmy Buffet is Pulitzer-worthy.
    *I love football, and loathe Dick Vitale, but we only have to deal with him on ESPN college basketball.
    *I always keep a book in the car for the times I turn back ahead of Husband on hikes/walks/strolls. After 30 years, you learn to compromise, right?
    *I’m not a beach person, but it’s downright cold in Franklin tonight and that sun looks inviting indeed.

  8. I chuckle about your husband watching sports. My husband is like that watching college football.

    As always, I enjoyed reading your post.

    Velva

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