A girl, her boyfriend and an afternoon of playoff football

	The Walk-On Ali Wisch, a sophomore at Champlain College in Burlington, Vermont, will be rooting for Patriots and Redskins this weekend.
	She may not be as enthusiastic as this cheerleader, but Ali is not afraid to celebrate a touchdown with her boyfriend and his friends. Streeter Lecka/Getty Images

By Ali Wisch

You and your man have been dating for a few months. You haven't met the parents, but you have met the friends. You share sodas, but not toothbrushes. You've almost said, "I love you", which is why, when he invites you to dinner at an extravagant restaurant on the anniversary of your first date and looks nervous all night, you can't help but be a little curious about what is up his sleeve.

Dessert has been served, the bottle of wine is kicked, and just as the words are about to come out of his mouth, you think: If he asks me to marry him, I'm running out. No, definitely not. Oh god, he wants to break up. Okay, now you're just jumping to extremes.

"I ... okay. So I was wondering ... do you wanna come watch the Redskins in the playoffs with some buddies of mine on Saturday? I mean it's no big deal ..."

This is a huge deal! I can't believe he just asked me to come watch football with him and his friends.

"I know you probably can't believe I just asked you to, you know, watch football with me and my boys, but I need you there for good luck. You'll like it."

Aw, that's so sweet. Oh shit, what if they lose? Am I bad luck? Yeah, I'll like it as much as he likes watching Sex and The City with the girls and me.

"Sure baby, I'll be there."

Most girls are tricked into watching games. You are lucky enough to get an invitation that weighs more than Tony Siragusa did two weeks into his retirement. Guys like yours have pre-game rituals that include wearing a full football uniform, and they will literally lock themselves in their room and go days without sex after their favorite team loses a playoff game.

You will be judged on your knowledge of football (if his friends can take their eyes off the screen long enough to notice your presence), by his friend's girlfriends, and by how many times you get up to get your boyfriend a beer. That's a lot of judgment for one day, and for someone whose little brother had to explain that the yellow line on the field is invisible, it is a lot of pressure.

You get to your man's house and the beer is in the cooler, the chips and salsa are on the table, the bets have been placed, and you are so nervous you can't remember if Bud Lite is a twist-off or not. The clock strikes 4:30 and the teams are ready to go. You've done enough research to know that the Redskins are burgundy and gold, and Tampa Bay is black, red, and white.

The first two quarters go by in a bit of a blur. Your boyfriend, noticing your shaking leg and darting eyes, detaches himself from the screen long enough at halftime to caringly give you a play-by-play.

"Alright, so the coin was tossed, babe, and moments after kickoff Joe Salave'a tipped a Chris Simms pass into the hands of LaVar Arrington, who returned the ball to the Tampa Bay six yard line. The following play was a handoff from Mark Brunell to Clinton Portis, which led to a six-yard touchdown run ... you know what a touchdown is right, baby? In the second quarter, Cadillac Williams fumbled ..."

Your man stops mid-sentence because the game is back on.

While you try to digest all of the information he gave you, the next two quarters fly by. You pick up on most of what happened. Fourth quarter, with the score 17-10 in favor of the Redskins, Mark Brunell threw a questionable pass across the middle of the field. The ball landed in the hands of a Tampa Bay cornerback (you never thought a man in tights could look so good). Your significant other had noticeable beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and was on his tenth cigarette when Washington's defense pulled itself together and stopped Tampa Bay to seal the win.

The game is over (at last), your boyfriend is fifty bucks richer, and you are guaranteed a pleasurable post-game. His friends appreciated you cheering during the touchdowns, and you got them enough beers to seem nice but not like you were trying too hard, and their girlfriends left at halftime so you (and the Redskins) are huge winners.

Yeah, you could get used to this. You don't mind hanging out with your man and his boys, and it was super cute when he kissed you the forehead every time the Redskins made a good play. For now, you may not be checking scores on ESPN, but you definitely know what team you'll be rooting for.

Long live the burgundy and gold.