You play ball like a girl

This hoop. This one right here...

Two or three times a week, this is where I get my ass handed to me by a tenacious, single-minded six-foot tall power forward. The only upside of the regular whupping is that I get a kiss at the end.

I should probably mention that I’m married to the power forward.

There’s a picture in my wife’s high school yearbook, one of she and a competitor going up for a rebound. My wife’s face is all determination and focus. The other’s girl’s face is a bit more of a pained rictus. My guess for the latter is how deeply my wife’s knee is buried in her gut. I’ve asked for assurances I will not be treated similarly in the backyard. Thus far, I have received none.

In recent…