If I added up the time I spend watching football, researching players, and writing weekly fantasy recaps for my league, it would probably be at least a part-time job.
The following is an accurate transcription of what went down at the bar with my friends during Game 6 of the NBA Finals.
Friends, I might add, who’d gotten a small (and by small, I mean huge) headstart on the mandatory drinking part of watching sports. (In my defense, the only reason I wasn't right there with them was because I'd spent the last four hours driving back from camping. I'm totally not judging them for getting their drink on. In fact, I can only hope they didn't judge me for showing up so sober. But whatever, you know they totally did.)
A few things I should point out about these particular friends. They aren’t enormous sports fans, but they definitely enjoy the excitement that comes with watching important games at the very end. They also seem to like the social element of "watching the game" as much (read: more) than the game itself. And two of them are gay.
Now that you have all of the pertinent information, please enjoy the following snippets of conversation. (I took notes.)
1st Quarter—while I'm still at home rushing to get showered post-camping trip so I can get my ass to the bar.
My phone starts buzzing every few seconds:
On the day’s accomplishments:
“I watched six hours of 'Brothers & Sisters.' I really like how the whole point of that show is that if you have a problem with someone, you should address it right away. I just feel like, if you're not sure how to handle something, watch some 'Brothers & Sisters.'”
“Ugh. They switched sides. I’m so confused now.”
"GIVE IT TO THE BIG WHITE GUY!!!"
“What color are we rooting for?” “Blue?” “Oh! I’ve been rooting for the wrong team the entire time!”
In reference to the Mavericks' jerseys:
“I like that shade of blue.""It would look good with my eyes.”
As the 3rd quarter’s winding down:
“Wait. There are only three quarters?”“No, but a quarter is only 10 minutes.”(A quarter is 12 minutes, but who's counting. Besides, you know: ME.)
“GO LITTLE GUY!!! GIVE IT TO LITTLE GUY!!! YAY LITTLE GUY!!!”This is what they yelled at J.J. Barea (listed at 6 feet, but clearly several inches shorter) for the entire 4th quarter. They never bothered to learn his name, but the love was there. Until it wasn't:
“If I played basketball, I’d be as good as Little Guy. I just chose not to go in that direction.”
"I could definitely handle Little Guy."
Watching Lebron aggressively chew his mouthguard:“Wow. I never thought I’d actually want to be a mouthguard.”"Or a jock strap."
During a commercial featuring Anderson Cooper:“Hi Anderson. Love you.”
After learning that Dirk Nowitzki was not Jason Terry.“Oh. I thought Jason Terry was a white guy. I’ve been living a lie.”
While watching Lebron lift his shirt:“CHEATER...Nice stomach though.”
But my absolute favorite moment was when, with less than five minutes to play in the 4th, all three of my friends turned their back on the TV in order to play…
“Photo Hunt: The Chippendale Channel.”