Open letter to our downstairs neighbors, in anticipation of the Super Bowl
January 31, 2012Dear neighbors:
By and large you are a lovely couple to live above. I remain grateful that you tolerate my child's occasional bouts of "dancing" (repeatedly throwing himself on the floor) and that you seem to be happy, well-adjusted, and not abusing each other. Sure, you like throwing parties, but as long as the racket is celebratory and does not leave us wondering if we should call the police, we say: carry on with your crazy young lives!
But once football season fell upon us, I have grown increasingly puzzled by your behavior during games. (Matches? Bouts? What are these things called, again?) I must admit that my husband and I, as well as our son, are not exactly "les amateurs de sports," as the French would say. Oh, sure, we enjoy the occasional game of catch-the-ball, and sometimes we play toss-the-frisbee-and-then-CRINGE-AND- DUCK-when-it-is-returned-because-those-things-hurt. But when it comes to watching any activities wherein people fling themselves into other people and try to make their way in one direction or another on a given field, we know little or nothing. Oh, sure, we've attended Super Bowl parties, but that was only for the queso dip. Who can say no when queso dip is involved? And then we've fallen asleep near the queso dip until the host has asked us to leave. Which we have. (After we got the rest of the queso dip into the tupperware container we brought with us in case there was any queso dip left.)
At any rate, as I said, we have some questions, and as we are anticipating that our puzzlement will only increase this Sunday, we'd like to approach the day with some measure of understanding.
First of all, you're going to scream a lot, aren't you. Don't answer that. I didn't even put a question mark on it. We both know the answer is yes. You're going to scream a whooole bunch. Is "bunch" a unit of screams? Don't answer that either. Conserve your energy for the real questions.
Now: While I'm sure it feels good to cheer on your team, you know the players cannot hear you, yes? I'm just making sure. Do you think that if you yell loudly enough you might be helping in some way? This worries me. I'm worried for you.
Also: you do realize it's not you who's playing, right? Because I must tell you, the waves of euphoria shimmering up through our floorboards while you whoop it up seems to indicate that you believe that you are somehow responsible for your team's goal-making. Do you believe that you're remotely projecting yourself onto the field and invisibly whisking your heroes toward their objective? Again: just curious. Also concerned.
And if you're so happy, why is there so much cursing? I can understand the hooting and hollering (sort of), I even get why maybe you might feel the need to stomp on the floorboards until the building shakes (not really), but why must you then cry out "HOLY FUCKING FUCK THE MOTHERFUCKING BITCH FUCK ME OH MY FUCK"?! (I am paraphrasing.) You seem to be fairly even-keeled otherwise, so what is it about SPORTS! that makes you lose your mind and also educate my child even more than he gets educated around here whenever I step on the cat?
Hey, did you hear during that last game, how I was upstairs shouting, "Sports! SPOOOORTS!"? Scott was annoyed me for doing that, but I was highly amused by my joke and wanted you to be as well. I really don't mind that you love your sporting things. I am pretty sure you're insane, but whatever. You're not murdering each other, and this is all I care about.
Finally: will there be queso dip?
Love,
Alice
Reader Comments (60)
Be sure to shout, "HOW 'BOUT THAT SUPERBALL" when you see them in the hallway. They will love that.
I am married to a man who has the reactions you describe to the Superbowl, and every other football game he watches, ever, even in the instances in which he has no real connection to the teams playing. When football isn't on, he plays video game versions of football and does the same thing.
Scream. Swear. Scream. Swear. Only very occasionally, cheer in a screaming-swearing-manner. (He obviously never roots for the best team.) Otherwise, he's a wonderfully funny, wise, talented, peaceful man. I simply do not understand choosing entertainment that enrages as a pastime, and have to forgive this one quirk in order to maintain our great relationship.
I share you and your husband's sensibilities and appreciate this article. One tiny alteration, however; I'm in it for the guacamole.
You know what's not fair? That I can't talk about what I'm crazy about to total strangers in line at the dry cleaners, outside of an elevator, at the gas pump.
Can I tell you about a post I read that just blew my mind?
NO?
Then I don't want to hear 'bout dose bearz.
I am totally going to scream and carry on during the next episode of Downton Abbey, I'll tell you what. MANNERS! INHIBITED PASSIONS! VALET WITH AN AUDIBLE "T"!
I usually knit while my husband watches football. Normally, he watches quietly. No commentary. Until something exciting happens, and I nearly die from a heart attack because of the shouting. Always when I'm counting stitches, is seems.
Our neighbors must have cable, because these days I get a warning (which is nice). Their feed comes in a full 10 seconds before our satellite feed. So muffled yelling, and then...loud yelling.
Please go and thank your lucky stars that Henry is not interested in sports, because consoling an overwrought grade schooler whose team just lost . . . well, it's an art I haven't mastered, perhaps because my empathy keeps wobbling: "It is really sad when your team loses. I'm so sorry, honey. [but if it's any comfort to you, their failure is meaningless and does not affect the health or freedom of anyone on the plant, so there's that!]"
I don't understand all the fuss. I mean, I like birds as much as the next girl, but what's with this "superb owl"? Is it really that much better than all the other owls? And won't all the yelling frighten it away?
Oh Alice, I know. I know I know. My husband enjoys the football, but I threatened him early in our marriage when I saw how upset he got during games. There are children to think about, not to mention blood pressure. (And the principle of investing so much in a silly game, but I won't go there.)
Also, I like the idea of a rabble-rousing contingency to shout and wave doilies during Downton Abbey. I'm there. STUNNING VERMEER-LIKE LIGHTING!
wanna come to my house? we could play monopoly and drink wine.
You know what depresses me? That I'm depressed when my team loses. I know it's meaningless and I don't have any connection to anyone on the team and probably I'd hate several of the players if I did know them, and yet, when they lose ... I'm depressed.
People who behave like that over a football game are ridiculous. Just ridiculous.
Now, if it was a baseball game ...
I personally use the time to perfect things like my queso dip. I live in a house of 5 boys/men. At least 4 of them are sports obsessed. I just concentrate on delivering food. And wine (for me). And then I can do whatever I want because no one will notice as long as I don't cross in front of the television.
This! Is how I felt for many years. I was also known to mutter "you know they can't hear you, RIGHT..." against the backdrop of hollering.
But then. Then! My home team started winning. And I got swept up in the action. And now, I DO care.
Another tip of the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" variety: If you bet money on a game, you'll find really quickly that you start to "care" about what happens...
I feel your pain, but in a different way. My husband kept telling me he wasn't really into any sport except hockey when we were dating, but now in addition to hockey (all the time) he watches football, basketball, baseball, tennis, boxing, skateboarding, and anything and everything involving motorcycles. And apparently since we live in Dallas we're required to be entirely supportive of every Dallas team, and when I tell him baseball is boring and I couldn't care less if the Rangers made it to the World Series he gets all upset with me. Most of the time he watches quietly (except during the NBA playoffs last year when the Mavericks won - then there was a lot of yelling and jumping around), but every five minutes he says "you gotta see this" and expects me to drop what I'm doing and watch whatever is so exciting. So this is what I LIVE with - don't even get me started on our upstairs neighbor, who apparently likes to run and jump and drop things a lot in addition to having friends over to sing along very loudly and drunkenly to Journey songs. But so far no sports yelling, and at least no one is murdering anyone up there, yet.
I live in Dallas. Down here if you don't like sports you are ostrasized and treated as a green alien. I am grateful every single day I have the only man in town that cares LESS THAN I DO about watching boys play with balls.
I would suggest you go out to a movie (not a restaurant or bar; it'll be worst) and avoid the clamour but in Dallas you must hole up to avoid getting run over by the drunks when the game is over. Cover your floor with blankets, make queso and drink wine.
I date you, next time you see them, to say with complete sincerity, "Hey, the Superbowl is this Sunday. I'm rooting for the Red Wings. How about you?"
I live in England, so I just had to Google queso dip.
BLOODY HELL, ALICE. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
So this is what my life looks like to The Others? It really is quite clear now. I am a bona fide Sports Widow.
If you'd really care to know just what the life of the Sports Obsessed is like, I've described it in far too much detail here:
http://alittlewhineandcheese.com/2012/01/16/there-is-no-off-season-for-me/
It won't explain a darned thing, though, because it makes no sense.
I love the idea of retaliating with Masterpiece Classics. STOP SPEAKING IN FRONT OF THE SERVANTS--THEY CAN HEAR YOU. And also, DON'T TRY TO DRAG A DEAD BODY THROUGH YOUR HALLWAY AND EXPECT TO GO UNNOTICED--HAVE YOU PEOPLE NEVER SEEN WEEKEND AT BERNIES?? (Oh, guess not. That would have totally worked, though.)
I FEEL your PAIN!!!
Not as much with regards of sport but THE neighbours...
Just don't start me on THEM (for us) on the other side of the wall!!!
I've been there, got the t-shirt - and still bl**dy wearing it!!!!
Rant over.... (love the post though!!!)
OH MY GOD! My neighbors across the street do this for EVERY major sports game. Baseball, football, college, professional. They have WOKE us up screaming at midnight b/c of a great play. Mind you, doors are shut along with windows and they STILL can wake the dead.
I am considering printing this and putting it in their mailbox. LOL
This made me laugh. I'm usually the one yelling at the game not my husband. He really doesn't give a flip about sports but he does try to watch games with me just to spend time with me. Or maybe just humor me. I try to avoid the swearing since I have a daughter. Oh, and the others who posted about Dallas and sports are correct, really it's Texas and sports, more specifically football.
I am, however, all for cheering about Downton Abbey and my husband might even cheer some too.
You mean your neighbors are annoying only three waking hours a week? During football season? How I envy you! Or would have envied. While my husband was still in his apartment, his upstairs neighbors did laundry every single day starting at 8 a.m.
My husband works late into the night. He's a night owl.
The laundry started after the 6 a.m. session on the treadmill.
We finally asked them to maybe delay the laundry a little - why do two retired people need to do laundry every day, anyhow? - and they told us we made too much noise cooking every night!
They took the cookies but then told us this was NOT New York city and people here get up early.
PS I don't care about the superbowl this year because the Packers are out.
I am going to make all you uptight, elitist, fancy university-educated literary libtards vomit by telling you that not only do I act like that with football, I act like that with NASCAR, too! And now that I know that it gets your goat, I will make sure to do it louder and longer, baby! So, let's not wait until Sunday, let's start now. GO GIANTS! BEAT THE PATS! SACK THAT MOTHERF*CKING MODEL-SCREWING PRETTY BOY! MAKE HIM BLEED! CRUUUUUUZ!
Y'all have a nice day. :-)
My husband and I love sports, but we're not profane when we watch them. Usually. I just wanted to say, as a Texan, that the term "queso dip" is redundant. It's just queso. Lovely, melty queso...I totally support eating all of your hosts' queso and stealing the leftovers, for what it's worth. If you get invited to a Super Bowl party this year, maybe the three of you could huddle in the bathroom with chips, queso and a laptop full of "Arrested Development?"
Points from the comments:
The delay in people's cable? That bothers me. It ruins the illusion that my actions are having an effect.
I don't scream bad things or make melodramatic announcements before the last minute(s) of the game. Unlike my mother and my husband and my friend's mother and often, her husband. At times, we've had to segregate the pessimists from the main viewing and relegate them to a smaller television. However, that was on the not on cable TV and so, by the end of important games, everyone was out there watching it as close to really happening as possible.
I use only positive statements, hopeful predictions, minor moaning for bad plays and practice zen moments to help them out -- I find if I take a deep cleansing breath just before the ball is snapped and sit up very straight, my team does well and the other team does not.
But my team isn't in it this year, so mostly I'll be eating.