Whenever I hear someone point out the disparity between a man and a woman’s emotional palette, I find myself agreeing and disagreeing at the same time. I agree because more often than not, women are out of the freaking gourds. Combine their psychotic I-can-have-a-nuclear-meltdown-in-.0003-seconds with their twenty-eight day cycle and… and I do not know why I am even trying to explain this—you can follow the math. Scientist and mathematicians discovered the formula centuries ago:
Psycho(ICHANMI + .0003) x 28-DC = bat shit crazy
For the women reading this column; do not hate. I am not a sexiest or a bigot, okay. I am just terrified of you. Men everywhere are. It is like co-existing with dinosaurs. We act and think as if, “Hey, if I do not make any sudden physical movements and pretend everything is kosher, this T-Rex will not gobble me up for a light snack.” I am not kidding. The women to dinosaur contrast is quite stark, more so than most probably realize. Check it out, both women and dinosaurs meet the following criteria:
- exotic looking creatures
- beautiful lines
- nice to photograph
- deceptively strong
- more dangerous when working as a pack
- movies about them killing people
- sharp teeth
I could go on and on, but my human instinct for survival is telling me to shut my yap unless I want my new sleeping quarters to be the same place I take baths.
I disagree with the emotional disparity between men and women because I realize men release just as much emotional broo-haha as women do. We just do it in more compact and compartmentalized way.
Men experience their emotions in three to four amplitudes; their jobs, their friends/family and their sports. You could argue video games too but it is too overwhelmingly apparent with our sports. With sports we experience the highs, the lows and every emotional variation in between. I think that is why men are observed to be emotionally inept in other areas. It is because we release so much of our emotional fuel within our world of sport that we hardly have any energy left for the other parts. It is not that we are more rational than our women counterparts; we are exhausted and cannot properly freak out.
Some of the most calm, easygoing people I have ever met are avid golfers. These people are not this way because they were born as such, but because they golf. The game will bring out the absolute worst in you. Any demon, hiding deep inside the recess of your soul, will show itself out in the roughs, sand traps and most certainly on the greens. Happy Gilmore is a perfect example.
This is why the calm, easygoing, golfing men you know do not flip out when they get cut in the grocery store line. All they have to do is remind themselves that earlier in the day, when they short-putted a birdie attempt, they almost impaled a camera operator with the flag from the 17th green because of a two or three putt. They are lucky they are not going to prison for manslaughter. So why should they care if this yokel with 50 items jumped in front of them at the local Albertsons?
According to the Pew 2006 News Consumption Survey, men comprise the overwhelming majority of sports television audiences—a whooping 74 percent in fact. We do not just freak out when golfing. Seventy-four percent of us have the entire realm of sports at our disposal, whether it be in our home or out at the sports bars with our buddies, to release our inner crazy. Three-fourths of women do not have this luxury.
If you had to label the tidiness of a females emotional plane, on a scale of obsessive compulsively in order to a Jackson Pollock painting… you would need this YouTube video to describe it. It is true. I have met, and you may know a couple yourself, some of the women from the 24 percent of the Pew Survey.
Take for example this person I know. With no real attempt to hide her identity we shall call her Breski. Breski is everything you expect a woman to be, minus the NASCAR crashes of emotional crazy. She is not butch in anyway, nor does she have any man-isms. She is a chick, but super calm, easy to get along with. Well guess what? Homegirl golfs. A lot. Coincidence? I think not. It should come to no surprise that one of Breski’s good friends, who we will call Darmikey-motorcykey, is ridiculously athletic. Her children will definitely compete in the Olympics someday. Darmikey is also way laid back. Except when it comes to road rage, but road rage is a whole other column and ballgame in itself.
My point is that both of these women are cool and avoid Old Faithful proportioned flip-outs and I credit it to golf and sports. The only other females I know who are chill like them smoke a ton of weed… and that ought to be self-explanatory right there.
Anyhow, now that I am literally 900 words off my intended topic. I came on to put a quick message and be out. What I really wanted to talk about was the end of BYUs Men’s Basketball season and the emotions I felt after yesterday’s loss to Florida.
There was definite sadness. I cannot deny it was there because it was. Clearly you want your team to move forward and claim the ultimate championship, but you also have to keep in mind the amount of success and joys you had along the way. Then weigh them against a defeat. Yes, I felt sadness, but the taste of bitterness was strongly masked by the sweetness of everything that happened this season. This entire season will be something I will hold close and remember long in to my old age. Every passing year will, I think, make my memories and experiences all the more special.
I honestly and truly believe Jimmer Fredette will succeed in the NBA. Is it possible he could “bust”… I must acknowledge percentages, however slight. I do not think he will. It is that belief that makes this season so special. I cannot wait to tell my kids about the players—at every level—who were the names before they were born. When I was little, my dad told me all about the great players in the NFL, MLB and NBA. I remember hearing him say, “Brady, I wish you could have seen these guys play” and he would close his eyes to recall the memories to the front of his conscious. Almost like one would savor a bite of filet mignon or soufflé. I now have one more person I can add when I say something like that.
I can tell my kids,
“I wish you could have seen Michael Jordan play. The bulls were unstoppable. They went 72-10 in the regular season one year.”
“I wish you could have seen Kobe Bryant. Nobody has ever matched that level of determination.”
“In 2004 the Red Sox were down 0-3 in the series with Yankees and came back to win 4-3. Cherry on top was a World Series Win.”
“The 2010-11 season, your mom and I were still somewhat newly married and the nation was in Jimmermania. You couldn’t turn your head without hearing something about it. You should have seen this guy shoot. He took and made shots NBA guys never attempted. Scored in ways you never thought possible. Best college scorer since Pistol Pete Maravich.” And then my kid will ask, “Who was Pistol Pete?” and I’ll say, “I do not really know, I never got to see him play but my dad said he was incredible.” Then some day my kid will tell his kids, “I wish you could have seen blah blah blah, best scorer since Jimmer Fredette.” And then they will go through the same conversation I went through.
I witnessed first-hand, a legacy. Written in permanent ink in my mind. It will never be taken away from me.
And that is why I feel gladness less than 24-hours after the end of BYUs incredible run. Any person who feels different than I do, was never really a fan in the first place. The good thing about people hopping on the bandwagon is that they hop off just as fast. Good riddance. Major League Baseball’s Spring Training is about to end, perhaps some of BYUs hanger-ons will have enough time to go out and buy a Giants hat before the season starts.
I will end and leave this message to the entire BYU Men’s Basketball staff, coaches, players and Athletic Department: