No, Gilbert Arenas is Not a Redskin.

This is me on a typical Saturday afternoon. Ok, not really, but in my dreams, yes.

Since moving to Washington nearly four and a half years ago, I have discovered one thing about this town, this fall especially: DC becomes consumed by football. Everyone goes to certain team bars, people have fantasy football leagues, it’s quite the social thing. Now don’t get me wrong, I get this, I’m from the South. We treat football like church, we dress up for it. I grew up going to football parties with families renting big screen TVs for big games (back before the massive plasma became a standard piece of Americana), tailgating before our high school football games. I understand football culture. At the same time, it has been eight years since I have lived in the South. My college’s football team only made ESPN once, when the losingest team in the entire NCAA beat us. I don’t have a boyfriend, brothers, or father (that is living). Football is just not a part of my life. While everyone is getting drunk Saturday afternoon, I shop, run errands, go to the gym, and take advantage of the stores being empty.

So let me just say, I was completely blindsided when I got the following email from my friend Nick:

Do you have plans this Sunday afternoon? My friend Jeff gave me his 2 season tickets to the Redskins-Rams game. Would you like to go?

Wait, what? A Redskins game? This is not the typical email invitation I receive from friends. If you want to have a beer, you call me. If you need someone’s opinion on what shoes to wear with what outift, you call me. If you want someone to go see Nights in Rodanthe (which I not so secretly want to see), you call me. Want a gal pal to come with you to a sample sale? I’m your girl. Yes, I’m a girl’s girl, through and through. I come from a family of women. At least one television in our house is always tuned in to Lifetime, Lifetime Movie Network, or We. In fact, several times my mother has called me to say, “I just wanted to let you know that Lifetime is running a Danielle Steele marathon this weekend.” (Forget that we already own all the VHSes after buying them up at Sam’s Club years ago. It’s like seeing a movie in the theaters, it just feels different when it airs on the LMN.) Do you know how the three of us recovered from my father’s death? Therapy? Prayer? Crying fits of rage? Ok, there was some of that, but really it was just lots of 90210 and two shopping trips to Los Angeles.

But a football game? Is this something I want to do? I asked my friend Emma. “Oh, I had so much fun when I went to a Redskins games, but uh, I really can’t see you there.” Well, shyeah, obviously, and I take that as a compliment. “You drink a lot of beer, eat stadium food, scream with the fans.” Okay, I guess I could go for it. You know, if anything, this is an educational experience. I need to go just to say I’ve been, and honestly, what else have I got going on this Sunday?

So Sunday morning rolls around, I wake up, quite hungover (shocking), and ready for my DC “cultural” experience. But first things first, and this is the dilemma I find myself coming to terms with before every

This Will Never Enter My Closet.

major event: what do I wear? I realize a Redskins jersey would be the standard uniform, however, that is just not my style. Frankly, I refuse. I won’t even wear jeans and running shoes, much less a football jersey. Adding additional challenges, Sunday was also an unseasonably warm day for DC, my perfect fall sweater was just not going to cut it. In the end, I went with an “Americana chic” theme – dark blue jeans, white button down blouse, yellow wrap, Tory Burch flats, and giant sunglasses – Tim Gunn would have been proud. Just because this is a sporting event, does not mean that I have to dress down.

As soon as I walked out of my building to meet Nick, he goes, “Nice game day outfit.” Per-fect.

On the metro ride over to FedEx Field, Nick took the opportunity to begin my Redskins education.

Not a Redskin.

“So what players do you know?”

My knowledge of professional athletes in the DC area only comes from who makes the Reliable Source column in the Post. I don’t think I’ve cracked the Sports page. Ever.

“Who is that guy who throws the parties? Gilbert? Oh, wait, he’s a Wizard.”

“No, Gilbert Arenas is not a Redskin.”

Now you understand just how much this was out of my element. There are not many times I’m willing to let myself play the dumb girl role. However, this was one of those times. When we got to the stadium, we stopped by my coworker’s tailgate for what I thought would be Ah beer. Instead, she took the opportunity to give me a good Redskins hazing.

“What are you wearing?! You’re wearing Rams colors!”

Ohhhh, right. Bright yellow wrap, white blouse, dark blue jeans – yes, I’ve committed a Redskins fashion faux pas. She then forced me to drink two Miller Lites and two tequila shots…in a 20 minute time span. I was drunk within 30 seconds.

“Okay, now just remember the phrase, ‘Give it to Cooley!’ Just scream that and you’ll be fine.”

Got it.

Mid second beer: “Now what do you say?”

“Pass it to Cooley!”

“Oh dear God, GIVE it to Cooley! There is no passing!”

Sorry, I’m a writer, I thought it was better to go with a more descriptive action verb.

Finally, we got to our seats…which, I must say, were fabulous. Nick almost immediately went to go get us beers, and I was left to get to know our new seat neighbors. The man behind us I would come to discover seemed to like me. He would high five me every time the Redskins did something right, and oh talk in my ear every time Nick got up. “Is that your boyfriend? You look booteefull today.” Great. He also had on a pink breast cancer ribbon, I guess to show his sensitive side (something tells me the Redskins cheerleaders or some other attractive women were handing these out before the game). In addition, the guy sitting next to Nick brought a video camera to the game. To film the plays, you ask? Oh no, to film the cheerleaders. Without fail, everytime the Redskins girls came out on the field, so did his camera. I also seemed to attract many male admirers whenever I got up to go to the restroom or refreshment stand. Yes, in Rams colors and without a jersey, they still liked me (and every other female under 30).

So did I have fun? A very enthusiastic, yes. While the Redskins may have lost, I still go to spend the day outside, drink all day, and even have a hot dog. By the time I left, my jeans quite possibly may been glued to my body. Maybe my new found love, err genuine respect, for NFL football will lead to a whole new social life – weekends spent in dark sports bars instead of the shops at Georgetown. Okay, doubtful, but surely this will be a great excuse to host a party.