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When I married my husband, I knew that he was a jock. I had seen his high school yearbook, peppered with black and white photos of him on the soccer team, the baseball team, the track team. I knew that he and his four brothers had been heavily into Little League (their Dad was even a coach). I also knew that he liked to watch sports-- one of our first dates was to a Phillies game. Early on in our courtship I cheered him on at his high school's soccer team twentieth reunion (yes, you heard me right). He made a good showing and he was excited to be there. So yes, I knew all this about him, this love he had for sports. I just didn't know to what extent.

I should have been clued into it when he decided to ride his bike to work one day. All eight miles. On a curvy, wooded road. Then there was the various sports teams that he was on. We worked together, at a large company, and there were a bunch of "leagues" that you could join-- softball, tennis, basketball, volleyball-- and he participated in every single one. Being a supportive girlfriend, I'd go watch his games and cheer him on. One time I even got cajoled into filling in at one of the softball games (they were short one girl).

So, I married him thinking how great it was that exercise was such an important part of his life. I even hoped that some of his enthusiasm would rub off on me. That was eight years ago.

It seems that as he has gotten older, he's gotten even more into sports. He's taken up a new one recently-- golf. Oh, how I hate being the wife of a golfer. Golf isn't a one hour match up like a basketball game is-- it's an all day affair. Plus it's expensive. And then there's the matter of the touch football with the guys from work. My husband is ten to fifteen years older than most of his work colleagues-- and he loves competeting with the younger guys. He gives them a run for their money-- most of them can't believe how old my husband is when he tells them.

My husband generally plays basketball two nights a week and one day at lunch with the work guys. The touch football and the golf are more seasonal sports (thank goodness). Running is a frequent activity when the weather is warm; if not, there's the treadmill and weight bench in our basement.

So the sports playing I can deal with. I mean, he has to exercise after all. I understand that-- we have two small children and he wants to be in good shape so he can be around for them for a long, long time.

It's the extracurricular sports-related activities that get under my skin. He spends hours reading the sports page from the newspaper and magazines like Sports Illustrated. On the Internet? SI.com and the Sporting News and a bunch of other sports websites. ESPN, ESPN2 and Comcast Sports Net are always on our TV-- until I can wrestle the remote control away from him to change it. And when it's fantasy football draft pick time, forget it-- I'm not even allowed near the computer for fear he'll miss out on a hot pick.

Today we rushed home from a family party because there were two big basketball games on that my husband absolutely had to watch (okay, okay, its playoff time). So sometimes I really do feel like a sports widow. But other times, and this is most of the time, I remember that I married him for better or for worse. Which to me means that there are a lot worse things to worry about than a husband who likes sports. My husband is a jock, but he's my jock and I wouldn't trade him for the world.