Barry and I stopped at the busy bar of a local restaurant this afternoon for a beer.  Just a beer.  No appetizers.  No meal.  No nothing.  Just a beer.

We never do this.  Well, we drink beer with other things.  Like food.  But we never stop somewhere to just have a beer.  We had lots of delectable leftovers in our refrigerator at home, but after watching Jane compete in a 70.3 mile Triathlon and putting Audrey on the Acela as she headed out to NYC’s Fashion Week… we wanted to relax with a beer.

The beer came with more than we expected.  Like guys screaming at the multiple television screens.  As if these guys were in their own homes.  Standing up.  Cursing.  Waving angry arms and fingers.  Oblivious to every other restaurant patron.  Seriously weird.

One guy in particular was ALL BY HIMSELF doing  all of the above.  Screaming at referees… or more correct, screaming at the flat screens where this guy must have thought there are two-way sound systems and those refs could hear HIM.  And those refs would reverse calls that didn’t please HIM.  Self-control was not the discipline of the day.

No-one seemed to mind the standing and cursing and angry gestures at the little moving figures on those television screens.  But I thought, Hey, guys… you’re not HOME! This was a restaurant filled with strangers, and those strangers just might want to have a beer.  A cold beer.  Without all the stuff that people usually reserve for HOME.

Barry and I left after our beer. We weren’t upset or angry or anything like that… just surprised at the lack of control that some sports fan have for their teams and their games. Barry and I love sports and we love watching sports on television.  We’ve even been known to get a little rowdy with our language and gestures.  At HOME.

FYI, guys.  The players and the refs CANNOT HEAR YOU from that bar stool.  But maybe they can hear you from HOME.  Just a thought…