Super Fan

It's opening day in Kansas City. And, throughout the city, there's excitement around the Royals and the team's newly renovated stadium.

I am married to a Royals super fan. And, I mean super fan. Ya know those Star Trek conventions? He's the Royals' equivalent.

Much to his dismay, I am not a super fan. And, really, just barely, even a fan.

Before we married, I thought going to Royals games was about looking for cute boys and eating jumbo pretzels. I was shocked to learn people actually watched the games.

Before we started dating, my husband had never left a Royals game early. Whereas, I would start schlepping to the car about the sixth inning. I had to. I couldn't walk that fast in my heels.

I'll never forget one of the first Royals games we attended together. A foul ball was hit right next to me. It bounced. I looked at it. It kept rolling. Seeing the disbelief in my super fan's face still makes me laugh.

For the record, I am athletic. I love sports and I love to compete. But, baseball just doesn't do it for me. You can go the entire game with only the pitcher and catcher touching the ball. Bor-ing.

And, have you ever noticed how many overweight pitchers there are in baseball? You mean to tell me they're getting paid millions of bucks and they can't bust out a few sit-ups? I cry foul.

I will end with one truly endearing thought about my hubby's un-natural man love for the Royals: He sticks by them through thick and thin. He loved em' when they rocked in the '80s and he still loves em' now ... when they're not so rockin'. And, I love him for that. It makes all the jerseys hogging our closet, the signed baseballs cluttering our furniture and those creepy bobbleheads, palatable.