Dee wrote this for a past Super Bowl Sunday…..
As the normal Sunday (Sun-Dee) poster, I have the honor of being your morning kick-off before the big game. Usually this time of year I’m down under, watching the Super Bowl at 10:30 AM Monday morning. Of course, this is not a usual year–no Super Bowl parties to attend either.
Yes, I’ll be watching the game.
I’ve been a sports fan–and participant–all my life. At various times in my life, I’ve played baseball, softball (slow pitch and fast pitch), football (mostly touch football, although I was the worst high school freshman center ever), basketball, volleyball, ice hockey, soccer, tennis, golf, and touch rugby league (I was a regular at the Sunday morning touch footy game for the four years I lived in Sydney).
I still golf and play tennis on a regular basis, and run races and compete in shorter distance triathlons (and hopeful for the resumption of races soon). Playing sports–or training for the races I do–consumes a fairly large part of my time (and a greater percentage of my time over the last year).
And to what do I attribute this lifelong fascination with watching and playing sports?
My mom was the second of five daughters (no sons) of a sports mad father (my maternal grandfather, who died when I was very young). With no sons to pass on his love of sports, my mom became the recipient of his passions.
Mom grew up in Columbus, Ohio, home of the Ohio State University, and was a fan of the Buckeyes her whole life (and OSU graduate AND OSU medical school graduate). I’ve known the OSU fight song my whole life. Thanksgiving weekend was either a celebration–or a funeral–depending on the outcome of the Ohio State-Michigan football game.
She became a St. Louis Cardinals fan when she moved to my hometown after marrying my dad (I grew up, and still live, in my dad’s hometown). She listened to the Cardinals on KMOX, and so I listened to the Cardinals on KMOX (and still do).
When I was nine, she bought me tickets for my birthday for the 1966 All-Star game held in St. Louis (it was 105 that day, but fortunately we were in the shade). In 1973, she bought tickets for the NCAA Final Four, also held in St. Louis; we watched Bill Walton make 21 of 22 shots in the Championship game.
Her love of sports was definitely passed on to me (although I am definitely NOT a Buckeye fan, as I attended a different Big Ten school).
Ironically, my mom had little to do with my desires to crossdress (I’ve read a number of internet forum posts where members were fascinated by their mother’s clothes, but that was never the case with me). I was always more interested in my sister’s clothes, as she was two years older than me.
After my mom passed away (about 20 years ago), I cleared out her closet so my dad didn’t have to. I donated all her clothes to thrift stores, except for a top and skirt I kept for myself (I still have both, and try them on occasionally). At the time she passed, I wasn’t dressing frequently, and as I was many pounds heavier then, many of her clothes didn’t fit me (I did try many of them on, just to see). I wish I would have kept a few more things.
I’ve never done anything really sporting dressed as Dee; never golfed, played tennis, gone to a game, etc. I have several female workout tops (given to me by my friend Michelle) that I wear in boy mode occasionally, and my favorite running tights are a pair of black female tights (worn without shorts) and a pair of female leggings (worn under running shorts). I’ve thought about doing the annual St. Louis Halloween half-marathon wearing a woman’s top, but I’ve always chickened out at the end (and no way I am running 13.1 miles wearing a wig).
I have done three triathlons with painted toes, and given the swim leg is first, there is no real way to hide them from the other participants. But, while milling around for the race to begin, no one has ever mentioned them.
Though my mom didn’t have a lot of influence on the girl me, she did have a lot of influence on the boy me. On the day of the biggest sporting event of the year, I wanted to give thanks to her.
P.S. The picture of my mom is with my sister, not me.
Mom, no more noble title in the world!