For most of my adult life, I’ve endured the rolling eyes, condescending remarks and even name-calling from “real” men who can speak sport fluently. To be a “real” man, one needs to know players’ names, numbers, stats, injury history, salary, what round they were picked in during the draft, and be able to recognize their girlfriend or wife when the camera shows them sitting in the stands watching the game. I know none of these things.
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