Yes, tacit references to The Sound of Music are appropriate for a football blog. I have a dream of spinning around on the fifty-yard line doing my best Julie Andrews impression in the middle of a game. Epic.
Anyhoo. To the point. Which is: Football Wives are asked to to some weird-ass stuff. Like, WEIRD. Weirder than anything Christian Grey asked Anastasia Steele to do. And we haven't even signed any contracts!! But, since there isn't any Non-Disclosure Agreement (yet), I can share these little nuggets with all of you.
Background-wise, you need to know that sometimes Junior Varsity players sometimes "play up" in a Varsity game. There are several reasons for this, one being that they have shown improved skill in their JV games and have earned a few minutes in a Varsity game. I personally think it is so the sidelines are so dense with people that it keeps the Coach and his minions warmer. Just a hypothesis. I digress. The league requires that the Varsity uniforms have, well, uniformity. They must look the same. It is not like we're playing soccer or volleyball here folks! You can't have one person dressed totally different running around out there! Sheesh.
So. Mr. Coach brings home a Varsity jersey:
And a JV jersey:
And commands, "Maketh these looketh the same! Eth!"
And I say, "Are they washed?" (Because in the past, I have sewn on unwashed jerseys and I still have the stench in my nasal passages. Sweat + Mud + Grass + Spit + Random Body fluid. It is not a good odor. It would be a good band name, but not a good odor.)
Blank Stare. (His standard reply to many of my queries.)
So, I go to the fabric store. And I approach a female employee (to whom I internally apologize, because I know the conversation is going to likely take several years off of her life) and ask her where her Lycra fabric is. And I ask her if she has it in an orange.
Not a Traffic Cone orange.
But a Clemson orange.
More of a Tennessee-Clemson orange than a Boise State-Cleveland Browns orange.
But kinda Cinnamon.
And she appears to have a minor infarction, but nothing that requires medical attention. And she gives me the rather lengthy answer of, "No."
So I dive into the remnant and sale bins and after about 20 minutes, I find this!
Suck on that, Unhelpful Infarction Lady!! Ha ha!
And the final result, after wrangling the jersey on my poor sewing machine is this:
See? You can hardly tell! And, if you can tell, you won't say anything because I will cause you bodily harm should you decide to point out any inconsistencies.
I show them to Mr. Coach and he says, "That's fine." And I give him a look that would sear the rust off of a car bumper. His response then miraculously changes to: "You're awesome! Thanks!!"
And, thusly marital and football harmony is restored. All is right with the world. These JV kids can play their two plays in the waning minutes of a game that is way out of hand. And they will match the other children on the field. And it will instill unity and goodwill in the 3 people left in the grandstands. And I will stand on the fifty-yard line and spin and shout, "I DID THAT!"
Unhelpful Infarction Lady would make a pretty good band name, too.