Fantasy baseball. At least I know who my husband's mistress is.

Look, I'm a fan of sports. Always have been. I work in sports broadcasting hosting and producing a weekly sports magazine show. However, I have never witnessed such devotion, such feigned importance, as I have since marrying Mr. Matt Cook. 

(Looking back I should've been tipped off during our honeymoon when our free time was spent watching the Little League World Series. I had no idea.)

Let me break down how my life might be different from the wives of men who instead only enjoy an occasional episode of Sports Center.

Valentines day? I give Matt Fantasy baseball magazines. He gives me an hour or so of his time--uninterrupted by the constant revision of his excel spreadsheets.

I hear Matt's computer clicking every 2 minutes or so once April 1st rolls around. After figuring his computer was just noisy, I have since discovered Matt refreshes Yahoo Game Cast about every 2 minutes. If not more frequently. 

This next one I'm not sure how to describe in a lady-like way. Putting the overused "bases" analogy to use, I will say this: There have been times when I have tried to get to 3rd base with my husband, and he decides to get up and check on another 3rd baseman; A-Rod. 

Last year I begged Matt to let me have my own team so that I could be involved and learn to understand this way of life. I received a staunch NO with the following reasons. And I quote,

" 1. You're a girl.  2. You might beat me  and 3. If you picked players based on their looks or last names and won, I'd be pissed."

Finally, nothing sums up my situation better than this. After a BYU vs. SDSU baseball game where I was assigned to San Diego's dugout, I gave my number to Justin Masterson and he asked me out. I told this story to Matt when we were dating to make him jealous (because I still had Justin's phone number). Instead he gave me serious look , then said " That is aawwweeesome." And then he called his younger brother, Tyler, to brag.