Girls, Sports, and the Return of Black Jesus!

I was visiting a friend and her family in upstate New York a few weeks ago. I sat at a table with her, her mom, her grandma, and her father sipping coffee. I listened to the girls rattle on about decorating the front room and who was dating who for about 40 minutes. Finally, I turned to the dad, who was sitting right next to me and asked about his new GTO.

I swear it was like a bomb threat had been called in. My friend got up and loudly declared how she had to get going, while the mom and grandma decided they needed to get a start on wrapping the Christmas presents. I got dirty looks from the friend for the next 10 minutes as I drove her home.

Basically, we guys were expected to listen to a twenty minute list about why Brad, the guy around the corner, was bad for Julie, who went to middle school with a friend's sister, but the second I tried for a side chat with the father about somthing we found interesting, forget it. How dare we disrespect the conversation like that!

See, situations like this absolutely crack me up. This is why I start to laugh every time girls ask me, “What’s the deal with guys and sports, anyway?” As if girls aren’t perfectly content to ramble on and on about the latest episode of “One Tree Hill.”

I’d like to make something clear: I’m not looking for a girl who can recite the starting lineup for the 1961 New York Yankees. I don’t even need a girl who fakes an interest, because she’s out of her mind if she thinks that I’m going to sit through anything on the WB.

All I ask is that she understands that a few nights a year are off limits. I don’t care if there’s a fire, flood, or rise of the living dead—I’m watching every single Yankee Playoff game.

I’m not sure if girls get concerned over their men and sports because

1. They feel threatened by the obsessive level of interest when most guys can’t even remember their anniversary or
2. They begin to get serious doubts about the maturity levels of a man who has his own touchdown celebrations.

Deep down, every guy thinks that under the right conditions he could have been a professional athlete. It’s ridiculous, I know. But ladies, before you laugh, think about the stuff that you’re watching. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not on Dawson Creek and your chances of looking or living like any of those characters are about as good as me starting at short stop for the New York Yankees.

It’s nice to have a girl who’s a little bit of a sports fan. One of the sexiest things a woman can say is, “how about we cuddle and watch the Mets get their asses handed to them?” (Of course, the sexiest thing a woman can say is the same line, with a certain Boston team inserted instead of the Mets). But honestly, it’s not a huge deal for me.


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On another topic, my post from yesterday got me thinking. I’d like to get an artist and write a comic book. Anyone interested, should send me a message. It would be: “The Adventures of Black Jesus, Featuring the God Squad.” I imagine the entire thing would be a blaxploitation story. I’ve already got a few lines in mind such as:

• Black Jesus doesn’t go out like no punk bitch, Judas!
• My will be done, cracka!
• My Dad told me about you. He said He’ll be seeing you real soon, sucka!

I picture him dressed in a black leather robe busting the skulls of Romans and sinners.

“I hear that cat Black Jesus is a bad mutha--”
“Shut your mouth!”
“But talkin’ ‘bout Black Jesus”
“Then we can dig it!”

Mmmmmm…sacrilicious…