Busted Coverage Football Manifesto: Why Women Will Never Understand Us

So the ladies at our sister site, CollegeCandy, have thrown down the gauntlet with a little challenge called He Said/She Said and they decided to walk right into our wheelhouse – sports. They want to know why we get up at 9 a.m. on a Saturday to pour over dozens of online ‘insiders’ telling us who’ll cover the spread, followed by two hours of GameDay, which leads to the Noon kickoffs, followed by the 3:30 regional broadcast, which ironically lead right into the 7:30 (EST) ESPN game, which is just an appetizer for the ABC Saturday night game with Brent Musburger tweaking our nipples by uttering “You are looking live…”

Of course, Sunday is pretty much the same.

Sports=Gambling=Our Insanity

Here is what women will never get about us – we’re gamblers. Whether you throw bones on a moneyline, play in 6 $500 fantasy leagues, drop $50 on a weekly pick ’em league or make Brittney Spears ‘Toxic’ bets, it’s in our blood. Busted Coverage researchers tell us that men have been gamblers for thousands of years. Probably since the hunting and gathering stage. Take the year of 1568. Anything special happen? No idea, but men were hunting. Whalers had to feed their children, but there was  this huge ass animal that might throw your ass out of the boat. Might be your last fishing expedition. It was a gamble. A rush. A necessity.

The Couch

Guys, it’s a fact that we work longer hours and harder blue collar jobs when compared to women. (Ladies, don’t even make us drop government statistics on you. It’ll be like a Ray Lewis helmet between the numbers.) These are proven facts. From Sept. 3 until Feb. 3 it’s ours on weekends (minus a few off weeks in December when we’ll be at the computers researching our bowl picks). We’ve worked our asses off for the right to sprawl and treat our remotes like a F-16 cockpit. Multiple screens on one 60-inch LCD is how we roll. Why? Because it’s power.

“S%^&, TCU is about to score and cover against Houston!”

(Directed to your buddy Tony who’s acting as assistant remote gunnery mate)

“F#$k, Tony, I need it on Fox Sports Southwest. NOOOWWW!”

BAM! It’s on. But this isn’t possible without total control from the couch – our weekend home.

The Beer

The College Candy ladies don’t seem to understand the need for inappropriate amounts of beer during weekend football benders. Um, gambling.

Example: Pete drank 5 beers and 5 tequila shots last week before puking. But this week he’s going for 7 beers, 5 tequila shots and 2 bong loads with the hope that he’ll make it to the 10:30 EST Fox game. It’s a challenge. Balls to the walls. Gambling.

The Farts

Again, ladies, just how we roll. Gambling. How many chicken wings, draft beers (out of the new Kegerator) and bean dip can we eat and get away with not shitting our pants.

The Cheerleaders

(In the most annoying ex-girlfriend voice ever)

“I don’t understand why guys go crazy over the Chargers’ cheerleaders. I’m beautiful. Why don’t you lust after me as much as the Chargers girls?”

Um, because when we’re watching football, gambling and drinking the only thing that can break us out of the stupor is a rack in a cheerleader outfit. So, annoying ex-girlfriend eventually buys a slutty cheerleading outfit and tries to interrupt a weekend football bender by dancing in front of the TV. What she doesn’t understand is that ESPN/ABC knows to only give us brief bursts of boobs. 3 seconds (maybe a nip slip) and it’s game-on. Annoying ex-girlfriend thinks some cleav and ass shaking is going to snap us out of a 4th quarter for 15 minutes of sex. She doesn’t realize you have the Raiders +10 and need SeaBass to drill a 49-yarder to collect three Benjys on Tuesday when the bookie pays up. Only :35 remains on the clock. With strategic timeouts to position the ball in the middle of the field and coaches trying to ice a kicker this could take like 45 minutes.

Hey, annoying ex-girlfriend, grab us a beer and don’t step on Pete’s puke.

Manifesto Conclusion

Ladies, please understand that it’s not just us men who gamble. You’ll make one HUGE bet in your life. It’ll be the guy you’ll spend at least 10-12 years with (before the messy divorce) and have to live with. Is he breakable? Will I be able to have romantic Saturday night dinners with him in the fall? Can there be a Thanksgiving dinner without Troy Aikman and Joe Buck at the table? Be careful, there are landmines out there. That is why we suggest you date a guy through at least two fall football seasons. Year one will be horrible. If there aren’t improvements in year two it’s dumpville. Don’t follow our advice and prepare to lose your couch, remotes and fridge space for six months. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.


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