As a group, I bet there are more ex-spouses of sports writers than there are spouses.
You can see why. It’s part of the nature of the job that we’re rarely home at night and our minds are often elsewhere during football season – which in the SEC seems to be about 10 months out of the year.
OK, it’s 12 months. Whatever.
I’ve been reflecting on all that for the last week or so, after my wife and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary.
I first met my wife in 1976, I think it was, but it took 28 years for us to get married. What can I say, I move very slowly when making big decisions.
Folks who see us together sometimes have trouble figuring us out. Our politics are very different and I don’t like particularly like coffee – her passion – and I think two pairs of shoes are more than enough.
She exercises every day. I most certainly do not. She worries about her hair, while I don’t have any hair to worry about.
I understand why you can let a punt roll to a stop but you have to pick up a kickoff. She’s fuzzy on that.
She would never set foot out of the house without looking perfect while I’ll go get the paper out of the front yard in my jammies. She’s comfortable in a crowd of strangers and I usually retreat to a safe corner.
But we bonded over a love of words. The promise to always read each other’s writing was right there in our wedding vows.
Someone in the office asked just this week who I cheer for. Here’s the answer: “My wife.”
• I’ve been asked why this column sometimes has a Corinth dateline, like it does today, and sometimes has a Tupelo dateline. Sometimes I write it at home, in Corinth, and sometimes at our office in Tupelo. That’s the deal.
• A coworker of mine has a boy who just turned one. He’s 32 inches high and weighs 31 pounds. And already has three football scholarship offers.
• Kirby Puckett and Tony Gwynn both won batting titles in 1989. Twenty five years later, both are dead. Terrible loss for the game.
• Me: “Lots of good games on tonight. Which one are you watching?” My wife: “Masterpiece Theatre.” Me: “Oh.”
• At least Oakland pitcher Drew Pomeranz, a lefty, punched that chair with his right hand. He followed the advice of Crash Davis in “Bull Durham” and protected his throwing hand.
John L. Pitts (firstname.lastname@example.org) is sports editor of the Daily Journal. He shares more random thoughts on Twitter @JohnLPitts