I don't wanna talk about it.: The #1 Fan of Sports Fans

I believe every man has one true love in his life. Like any relationship, it involves a great deal of compromise, trust and devotion. It's a bond that embraces love and the ability to give and take. It's an emotional connection that, at times, will make you sweat, scream and cry all at once. The love affair I'm referring to is between men and sports.

Being born and raised in New York, you learn from a very young age the importance of being a loyal sports fan. Often times, new parents will decorate their baby's nursery with their favorite teams and dress them in tiny jerseys and hats. Some crazy parents will go to the extent of naming their kid after their favorite player.

Growing up, my dad would take me to a ton of games in hopes of me developing a love for sports. I remember as a little girl, we arrived at the Garden on the earlier side so I could see the Knicks as they were warming up. I thought it was pretty cool how tall they were, but that's as far as my fascination went. We then made our way to the seats and my dad bought me enough processed food to give me instant type 2 diabetes (he's a cool dad). After I was finished inhaling a hot dog, cotton candy, ice cream and Cracker Jacks, I tugged on my dad's arm and told him I was tired and wanted to go home. It was only 3 minutes into the first quarter. So, I sat there patiently with the worst stomach churns and observed everything but the actual game. I watched the fans, the snack vendors and the Knicks City Dancers (the only time I even looked at the court). I truly admire my dad's effort, but even at that young age, I knew I would always appreciate Haagen Daaz ice cream more than basketball.

My next sport outing was to a Rangers game when I was 7. My dad figured since I loved Rugrats On Ice, maybe I would enjoy giant men on ice chasing after a piece of rubber. He took the same approach as the last by feeding my face (which is still the only way you can bribe me to go somewhere I don't want to). There was something about the hockey game that I was beginning to enjoy. Maybe it was the spirit of the fans or the coolness of the ice. I definitely preferred the red, white and blue color scheme over the blue and orange jerseys. I was actually really excited to watch the game with my dad. As we stood for the National Anthem, I felt a small nudge on my right arm. I disregarded it and continued eating my popcorn. Then, within a matter of seconds a drunken middle aged man came toppling down from behind me. My dad's first instinct was to grab the back of his shirt to prevent him from falling on his face, but it was too late; it all happened so fast. The dude did a somersault into the bleacher next to me and split his lip wide open. It looked like a scene from the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" -- there was blood, so much blood. I.WAS.TRAUMATIZED. I haven't been to a hockey game since and I still have a fear of bleachers.

Although these were my weird and uncommon experiences at sporting events, I have a fascination with professional sports and their accompanying communities of fans. Men (and certain women) from all walks of life have this mutual love for a game. It's a fun little world comprised of athletes, stats and regulations that will excite you whether you're 12 or 42.

My boyfriend, Craig, is a walking encyclopedia of all things sports. You could ask him about any player on any team and he could tell you where they played in college, their shoe size and their mother's maiden name. I've witnessed Craig at his saddest and happiest and both instances were in regards to his sports teams. I know his lifelong dream is for me to wake up one day and know how football works, but I just believe that a touchdown should only be 1 point. I mean, who decided to make it 7 points? And it's not even really 7, it's really 6 points and then you get a chance for a bonus point. It's very confusing and gives me a headache when I think about it too much. I'm sorry, Craig -- we'll try again next season.

The thing I love most about sports is the interactions between fans. For instance: Craig was wearing a Rangers jersey yesterday as we walked through a street fair. Countless men shouted "LET'S GO RANGERS" AND "GO BLUE SHIRTS" as he walked by. He received infinite high-fives, fist pounds and one guy even chest bumped him. That behavior would NEVER happen between women. If I see a girl with a cute top on, sure, I may ask her where she bought it -- but I would never be like "hey girl, sweet romper! Let's hug!" or "holy shit, we're wearing the same essie nail polish, gimme a high-five!"

While I may not be the best sports fan or even know the rules of most athletic events, I find the bond between sports fans and their teams a really beautiful thing. It's a love that originates from the time you're a little kid and lasts until you're too old to read the scoreboard. It's a cult of supporters who display an insane amount of faith and loyalty no matter what happens during the season. If I had a dollar for every time Craig has yelled, "GOTTA SUPPORT YOUR TEAM," I would have a lot of dollars. So, even though I can't contribute to a conversation about whether Lebron or MJ is the best NBA player of all time, I can consider myself a fan: I'm the #1 fan of sports fans.