If you happen to be standing outside of our apartment door on a Sunday afternoon between now and February 4th, you may be shocked to hear the sound of a female voice shouting furious words at some unlucky SOB. Don't be concerned. The threats are meaningless. And that unlucky SOB is not me. It's the TV set. C and I are just watching a little of the football.

Over the years, C has taken a liking to pro football. I take full responsibility for this. Believe me - I knew not what I was doing. C has actually turned into a far more dedicated fan than myself. She enjoys watching just about any game, regardless of whether she likes the teams. This is all very interesting since my desire to stay home on one particular Monday night nine years ago and watch the Broncos play the Patriots - rather than meet her at a bar to celebrate the completion of her last exam - very nearly put an end to our nascent relationship. Later that season, the Broncos went on to their first Super Bowl win. It was an emotional game. We watched it together at a friend's house, and I'll admit that some tears were shed that night (possibly by me) at the sight of John Elway holding that trophy over his head. Some women might be ashamed to see their new boyfriend moved to watery eyes over a football game. But not C. Lucky for me, she was hooked - not just to me, but to football.

Over the next couple of years, as we watched games together, C would ask me questions about the game. The player positions, the rules, the strategies. I was the guide, and she the young apprentice. She was a fast learner, and absorbed every aspect of the game. Soon, I could no longer answer her questions. They became increasingly complicated and usually involved knowledge of stats, percentages, and prior scores which, as I've mentioned before, I typically have no mind for. This has always made me feel a bit inadequate, not only as a 'football fan,' but as a red-blooded, American male. But C, once the apprentice, is now helping guide me back to my God-given role as alpha football fan in the family. Together, we're journeying into a realm of football watching neither of us ever imagined possible. We now watch games with laptops open to both ESPN.com and NFL.com. Reading the detailed play-by-plays, watching the stats and percentages of the game as it unfolds. Looking up historical averages for teams and players. This is serious stuff.

Now if I could just find that spark of passion that would make me get up and cheer and shout, maybe and even tear-up when my favorite team wins the Super Bowl. I guess in my thirties I've become a little less impassioned when it comes to these things. But I miss it. Not only in football. I miss it generally - in life. So it was with pride that I looked over at C protesting some terrible call this weekend as we watched Indianapolis play the Giants. Pride and envy.

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