Junior League Dropout: You're a Good Sport...


"You’re a Good Sport" - Ladies, have you heard this lately? Or maybe, “He drag you along?” or “You tagging along for this one?”

Where are you, you might ask? Your in-laws’ neighborhood cookout? No. His rec softball game? No. Oh i got it, the 2nd Phish show of the weekend? No. 

Believe it or not, you are hearing this at a football game. For the school you went to. Endured random roommates at. Endured Rush at. Endured Rush on the other side at. Graduated from. Maybe even got a second degree from. But you’re in a dress so you must not want to be here.

Don’t get me wrong, I am pretty into staying in my "girl" lane. As I have mentioned previously, I do not care for a know it all female sports fan - but the equivalent of being told “bless your heart” in the land of the SEC is  “You’re a good sport”.

Two weeks ago I was in Chicago on bus number 45 of 50 headed to South Bend for Notre Dame vs. UGA. Let me paint the picture for you. It was hot, I was wearing a sweater, my Barbour, a designer scarf, and the cutest Tory booties. I was sweating.

The alcohol was free at the “tailgate” set up at on the museum steps, but the water was $3. It was essentially an outdoor pen for humans to wait to be corralled into their bus. Bus 45 was in the last group of buses…

But I was doing it. I was feeling it. I was saying “Go Dawgs!” to strangers. I was swaying to the beat of “Turn Down for What”. I told my husband to sneak beers onto the bus. I visited with college friends, high school friends, Atlanta friends, that guy who thinks he knows me but I for sure don’t know him. I was “committing to the G”.

So we load up on the bus, and we are chit-chatting with strangers. (as you do in these situations. Side note: I do not do this. I don’t chit chat. I don’t want to talk to someone I will never talk to again. I would rather seriously sit in silence then talk to stranger number 1 and stranger number 2.) 

My husband on the other hand is a gregarious bro. He strikes up a conversation with stranger 1 and 2. They are both men in their 40s. Nice enough. Georgia grads. They know my husband is a Georgia grad too because they asked him. But not me. They say to me “You’re a good sport for coming to the game.” 

I do my usual smile and nod thing and quickly find my phone and furrow my brow as if a make up/cooking/nail breaking emergency email has hit my inbox. They are done with me. They have written me off because I am a woman.

These bros have made some plainly offensive assumptions about me: 1. I didn’t go to UGA or if I did, they don’t care; or 2. I don’t want to be here. 

Let’s be clear, if I don’t want to be at a game, I’m not there.

I have hundreds of moments when I have the exact thought: “I don’t want to be here” and “I am such a good sport.” Those times are walking to the bus and walking through a disappointing tailgate in said Tory booties that are now the thing I loathe most in life. Or perhaps on hour two of a no carbs kick I decided to start on gameday. Sometimes when stuck talking to girlfriend of guy my husband sort of knows. But not when I am cheering on the Dawgs.

To quote Bey's husband, “Ladies can be pimps too”. So I’m pretty sure that ladies can be Damn Good Dawgs too.

Next time you see a bro with his girl at a gameday to him “You’re a good sport for coming to the game.” Then go on, brush your shoulders off.