I'm not really a sporty kind of girl.
I attended football games in high school... because I played the flute in the band.
I attended football games in college... because it was fun to flirt with boys.
I'm not really sporty.
I tried to play sports a few times in high school, but it didn't usually end well.
I like to go to Broncos and Rockies games now, but it's really just a social thing for me.
Or there was the time I had to write a sports commentary for a journalism class in college and it went something like this: "Nelson passes the ball to Jones... the pass is complete... he takes it to the thirty yard line... the forty... the fifty... the sixty... the seventy... the eighty... the ninety... TOUCHDOWN!!!" (And if you think there's nothing wrong with that commentary, then indeed, we are kindred spirits.)
Yeah. I'm not really a sports girl.
And if you need further evidence, I present you with the following photo documentation from Emma's first ever soccer practice the other night, entitled, "Angie tries to be a Soccer Mom."
Says Gary at soccer practice, "You do know that you fold the socks OVER the shin guards, right?"
I'm not really all that sporty, you know.
But no one will EVER fault my girl for having ribbons that don't match her shoes and shin guards. Even if you can't see 'em.
(I'm pretty lucky that my son-of-a-football coach / son-of-a-gym teacher / ESPN-loving husband married this athletically challenged girl, don't you think?)