Haters never win

Wow, I haven't had this many comments in ages! For all of you wondering, let me end the suspense and tell you that most of the anonymous comments are likely my mom and aunt, who are probably not as much trying to be mysterious as they just forgot to sign their names.

I thought for sure the Halloween pictures would bring the biggest demand, but it's obvious that my stadium story must be told first. I'll begin with clarification. At the Homecoming game, a couple of fairly attractive gentlemen sat behind us, and I decided to try to get them talking to my friend Jennifer in hopes that we could make a love connection. Alas, they left at halftime. I told her it was no loss--anyone who leaves a football game at halftime isn't worth the trouble anyway.

Now, the man seated behind us at the South Carolina game was most definitely NOT a looker. He is the perfect example of the "fans" that I call Haters. Theoretically they are at the game because they LIKE the Razorbacks--they are even wearing Razorback gear. But Haters never cheer or say anything positive--usually they don't even clap. They spend the entire game telling every player and coach what they're doing wrong, as though the players and coaches can hear them or care what they're saying. They think somehow that by being ticket holders they have earned the right to be critical and hateful.

Haters make my blood pressure rise and my teeth clench. I try very hard to refrain from confrontation, partly because it's rude and partly because I couldn't mortify Matt more if I went to the game in a sequined bathing suit. But it was the last game of the season, and we were playing SO well, and we were headed into halftime ahead by 18 points. We had about a minute and a half left in the first half, and our coaches decided to run the clock out rather than try to score and risk getting an interception that would completely ruin our momentum. (For those of you that don't care at all about football, momentum going into the second half is very important. Trust me.)

So Hater starts BOOING and yelling at Houston Nutt for the decision. Thing A, it was a good coaching call. And thing B, what kind of fool BOOS when we're 18 points ahead? After the 3rd time, I just couldn't take it any more. I turned around and led the following exchange:

Me: You don't boo your own TEAM!

Hater: I PAID for my seat, thank you!

Me: I don't know WHY, since you hate the team so much.

Hater: I wasn't booing the team, I was booing the coach.

Me: Ummm, I'm pretty sure the coach is a PART of the team. QUIT BOOING!

You know what the best part of the whole thing was? I figured that engaging in this battle would cause serious detriment to my marriage. I was wrong. The moment the first word to me was out of his mouth, Matt was all over the guy too. He totally had my back! That's a good man I have.

At any rate, Hater knew I was right, so he just sat back in a huff. Matt and I spent the 3rd quarter cheering wildly for every good play and standing whenever we could. Hater was completely silent, except for the occasional industrial strength sigh of fury. About halfway through the quarter, he stomped off down the stairs and dragged his wife with him. About 10 minutes later, she came back to get the two teenage girls that were with them--"He says we're going, NOW" was all she said. Guess the game wasn't bad enough for him. She glared at us, and I responded with a sound "GO HOGS!"

The Razorbacks of course went on to win one of the most exciting games I can remember being at, and I had the double satisfaction of knowing that Hater was driving home FUMING. So let this be a warning to all the Haters out there. Karma will get you--every time!