It breaks my heart to say this. We've gone through a lot together, ever since those sweaty, happy days of full-contact basketball in middle school gym class. I've stalked, err, seen you at more sporting events than I can count, either playing or happily supporting your team. You have a special place in my heart, right up there with "Females who Share MCBias's Religious and Political Biases" and "Females of an Certain European Ethnicity".
But I believe the time has come for us to part. I don't know when the music (played, of course, by a collegiate marching band) stopped for me.
* Maybe it was the n-th time you hijacked my favorite sports sites with some less than witty innuendo or sloppy avatar of your cleavage that kept the witty commenters panting for pictures of you. Or, even worse, seducing sports blogger X (and Y, and Z) into quoting your less-than-amusing reports and chats on his blog. This stopped them from writing jokes to amuse me, and I had to get back to work sans humor boost.
* Maybe it was when your looks in the audience during the game became more talked about than the game itself. We both know that those looks are to be discreetly monitored by those blessed with excellent peripheral vision, not trumpeted by the announcers. Personally, Erin Andrews and Jenn Sterger were old news a year ago.
* Maybe it was when the ordinary members of your demographic took full advantage of the 10-1 ratio (and I'm being kind) of males to females at sporting events to convince guys that they were extraordinary. I do not come to your movie nights and fake passion for chick flicks, and neither should you come to my sporting event and claim lifelong devotion to the team whose colors match your eyes the best.
* Or maybe it was something like this (click to enlarge):
I have given you more than your share of my waking and thinking moments. (Note: waking does not imply thinking. But you knew that.) But when you mess with my love of sports to force me to pay attention to your ordinary self**, I can no longer adore you. Depart from my favorite sports blogs and events, and trouble them no more! Or, remain, but stop using sports as a means to an end (or my end, or anyone's end) instead of enjoying the game itself. By all means, have sports crushes. I'm not saying check your gender at the door. But please, spare us the public, distracting, desperate ploys for male attention.
Sincerely, MCBias.
**Dear Sue Bird and Lauren Jackson. I meant someone else. Thursday still good?
