Sex... And A Player To Be Named Later

My fiance is a remarkable woman. Not only is she smart, beautiful and talented, but she's totally into sports. Not just one sport, mind you, but all of them. And if that weren't a big enough gift from God, she loves to watch them all on tv. Nary a baseball, hockey or basketball game goes by in our home without the two us of glued to the tube, rooting on our respective teams. Lately we've even been thinking about dedicating each of our three televisions to a different sports channel.

Jill isn't just your average female fan, either. No, she really knows the games inside and out. This girl could go toe to toe with Chris Berman any day of the week. I love this woman. Her dedication to sports is only one of the many reasons I'm going to marry her, but just between you and me, it's the clincher.

Actually, we haven't set a date yet. See I can't go ahead with the marriage until I get a final ruling from the National Labor Relations Board. You're probably wondering what in the heck does the NLRB have to do with a wedding? Well, it all started innocently enough four months ago.

We were watching a game. I think it was the Cardinals against the Cubs. Sosa was chalking up another homer. Jill, as she is prone to do, was screaming at the set, commanding the ball into the upper decks. For right or for wrong, I chose this moment to bring up the topic of a prenuptial agreement. At first she thought I was joking, but I quickly explained that I was somewhat concerned about her tendency to spend money lavishly. I wasn't suggesting that we not share everything, I was merely trying to "cap" our spending on a yearly basis.

Much to my surprise, Jill was intrigued by my proposition. She said she'd be more than happy to discuss this matter as long as "everything" was on the table.

This should have set off warning bells in my head that danger lay ahead, but foolishly I assumed I would prevail, so negotiations were officially opened. My position was that we establish a "hard cap" limiting spending for the household. She immediately countered that she would only accept a "soft cap," with an exception for any income earned beyond last years combined revenues. Those additional dollars would be distributed evenly between us, with no limits on spending. I suddenly discovered my finance was far more shrewd than I had ever imagined. But her counter seemed reasonable, so we shook on the deal, then got back to watching the game, after which we made passionate love right there on the couch.

The next morning at breakfast, with Davis Cup tennis playing in the background, I suggested that we try to nail down a date for our wedding. We had been discussing several different weekends in June, but just couldn't settle on which one. She took me completely by surprise when she insisted on a "signing bonus" before any further wedding planning could take place. I tried feebly to suggest that negotiations were no longer open, but she quickly pointed out that no formal deal had been signed. At that moment I faced the realization that my fiancé was going to be a truly formidable opponent. I requested that she give me a couple of days to consider her proposal, which she graciously granted. Then we returned our attention to the grass court action at Wimbledon. When the match concluded, we indulged in a quickie right on the kitchen table, then both headed off to work.

A few days later, during a time out in the Dolphins/Raiders game, I reopened the talks. I told her that I would agree to her "signing bonus", but it had to be tied to an "incentive clause." If we didn't have sex at least four times a week, then the signing bonus would be null and void. The look on her face told me that I had regained the upper hand in these negotiations.

As Jerry Rice made a spectacular finger tip catch of a fifty yard touchdown bomb from Rich Gannon, we both sat silently on the couch. I now felt confident that not only would I be able to insist on cutting another thirty people from the invitation list, but that I had clearly established my dominance in this relationship. That dominance lasted all of twenty seconds.

Jill, in a very business like manner, informed me that she would accept my terms, but only if I passed a rigorous "physical" first. This was completely unacceptable! She knew full well that my body had been finely tuned to perform the most strenuous of tasks, like cracking open a Bud or tearing into a bag of chips. We both knew I would never pass a physical which required anything physical. This was dirty pool. I vociferously refused to submit to any kind of medical examination other than the legally mandated blood test. And since she had chosen to engage in such malicious tactics, I insisted on being granted "limited free agency" after one year of marriage.

Jill calmly informed me that she would remove her demand for a physical, but at the same time she was declaring me a "franchise player," which would leave me ineligible for free agency.

Desperate to regain control of the situation, I invoked my right to have this matter settled through "binding arbitration" or else, I threatened, I'd have no choice but to go on "strike!" Without even batting an eyelash, she told me a strike was unnecessary due to the fact that she was immediately imposing a "lockout."

With a decided chill in the air, we both resumed watching the game, followed by Sports Center. True to her lockout, there was no post-game sex. I took a cold shower instead.

Over the course of the next few weeks, cooler heads prevailed and the tensions lifted. We both realized we had gone way overboard and that our love for each other far outweighed any foolish disagreements over a prenuptial agreement. So, after enjoying an exciting Classic Sports replay of the 1972 Stanley Cup playoff game 5 between the Bruins and the Rangers, we chose to pass up Dick Schaap's "One on One" interview with Bobby Orr in favor of a little "one on one" of our own atop the coffee table.

And as far as our wedding plans are concerned, everything's back on track. We've even trimmed down the invitation list and registered at the local "Sport Mart." So, any further talk of "negotiations" has been completely forgotten. We're just back to being that same happy, sports loving couple we've always been, with hardly a disagreement between us... that is until the National Labor Relations Board rules on my "unfair labor practices claim" against Jill. Then we'll see who gets the last word!!