The following was an
article I wrote for a magazine which went bust just before it could
appear. I disavow any connection. Subsequently, it’s been
included in the Bethlehem Writers Group anthology, Once
Around the Sun. Amazon link
A Spouse’s Guide
to March Madness
by Headley Hauser
Relating to a spouse
during March Madness isn’t all that complicated, really. It’s
all about laundry and Tic Tack Toe.
I’m not exactly
Dr. Phil. The closest I’ve come to a long-term relationship was
with a hardy Swedish ivy. It died after seven years of accidental
neglect. So, how I am qualified to write a spouse’s guide to
anything?
Well . . .I’m a
guy. I know how guys think, and when I say spouse, I’m not talking
about husbands, I’m talking about women, or as we single men call
them . . . .
We
never really learned what to call them. That’s why we’re single
men.
I’ll bet
there
are women out there saying, “I know a lot more about basketball
than my husband/boyfriend/Swedish ivy.” Perhaps so, but do you
have the capacity to lie on a couch for three successive extended
weekends, and do nothing but ignore women, watch television,
and build teetering towers out of dishes and beer cans?
Yup, there are some
things we guys will always do better.
“So, Headley,”
asks my fictitious female interrogator, “why does my normally
active and moderately interesting man vegetate for an entire month
listening to Dick Vitale?”
“It’s simple,”
I say, squirting my underarms with breath spray (can’t be too
careful), “it’s about laundry.”
My best friend
growing up was Paul Sender, (not to be confused with Paul Westphal,
Chris Paul, or the 1962 Elvis hit, Return to Sender.) Paul had a
large open laundry hamper in his room.
Every night before
going to bed, Paul got into his PJs and lined up his dirty socks,
underwear, pants, GI Joe tee shirt, and even his PF flyers (sneakers
that made him run faster and jump higher.) Then, he launched each
item into his laundry hamper from the foul line (roughly defined by a
line of Legos.) If he went seven for seven, he tossed his little
brother in as well,
to
celebrate.
Big brothers are
supposed to do such things.
Now, my mother is a
fine woman, but she understood nothing about the formative,
therapeutic value of an open laundry hamper, nor did she understand
its relationship to subsequent multi-million dollar NBA contracts.
She had me put my laundry in a bag, much like those you might see a
merchant marine carry--except for the Wild West pictures and the
printed words encouraging me to “Ride ‘em Buckaroo.”
The thing about a
duffel-type laundry bag is that, when hung from a hook, it has only a
tiny opening at its mouth--not big enough to throw a sock in, much
less a pair of dungarees, and certainly not Paul Sender’s little
brother. With careful aim, you could toss in a marble, so long as it
wasn’t a shooter.
Mom didn’t much
like marbles in her washing machine.
So you see,
basketball is all about our obsession with laundry tossing--that’s
why we watch March Madness. If we didn’t, we might chip in and
clean up around the house--something men just don’t do.
But if you live with
a man, I don’t have to tell you that.
“So,” says my
simulated female questioner, “what does Tic Tack Toe have to do
with it?”
Isn’t she great?
I could
never
have made this segue without her.
Each young boy’s
obsession with Tic Tack Toe is well documented. All you have to do
is look at any elementary school lunch table to see the familiar
four-line grid, complete with Xs and Os. It’s as ubiquitous as
that limerick about scenic Nantucket. But unlike that limerick
(which just never gets old,) Tic Tack Toe grids disappear in middle
school. Why?
Somewhere around 6th
grade comes the great disillusionment. When played by two
enlightened players, Tic Tack Toe always ends up in a draw. All you
need to do after your opponent X’s a corner square, is put your O
in the . . . . Well, I’m not really sure, but it always comes out a
draw.
That’s why men
created the March Madness bracket. All those lovely lines reappear
in a format that we know will never result in a draw.
If you wish to
relate to your significant male in the month of March, all you have
to do is fill out your own bracket. It helps if you know nothing
about basketball. Choose the teams numbered
(that
means ranked, but you don’t need to know that) 1 and 2 in each
quarter grid to advance all the way to their respective regional
finals. Men are too proud and stubborn to recognize how often that
happens. Then choose the higher number to advance in every other
match-up. Who cares if you lose 20 of your first 32 games? You’ll
have all the upsets on your grid. When your man is on the phone with
his buddy asking what genius predicted the Fighting Sarah Palins of
Alaska Moose-skinning Tech
Hey, at least he’ll
be talking to you.
What you want to
foster a meaningful relationship during March? Read someone else’s
article.
Here’s a video
that warms those relational squishy, pumpy things we keep in our
chests. At least is you love little yellow minions. I think the German makes them more understandable.
