I don’t know if it is because we women are more intuitive, or perhaps when you’re married you have learned so well how your husband shows love and affection so that you see the signs probably before he even does.

I can remember every detail: we were both in the kitchen preparing food, chatting about this and that, when there was a sudden and deliberate pause in conversation. Veri-husband’s face clouded in a look of guilt as he sheepishly looked up to me and made his confession: He loved baseball more than football. As a couple, football has always been a big part of our lives. In our frenetic courtship I remember showing him DVDs of the Patriot’s incredible season that culminated in their first Super Bowl win. As I relived it, he started to live it. He was hooked, I was already a junkie, and years of cheering on our team — on the computer, on TV, and at the stadium — followed.

Ater we moved to New England I started to see the signs. When planning to go on vacation someplace warm he casually mentioned going to Florida which happened to be during spring training. During some downtime on the weekend he’d put on the game, drop some figures into our conversation. He bought a Red Sox cap — for the sun, you know — and started TiVo-ing the games.

After his confession all I could say was…I know. Of course I did — don’t we always? With his secret out, he has flourished as a Red Sox fan, watching or listening to most games and cheering them with the passion once reserved for football. As a semi-fan, I have found myself getting caught up. Going to Fenway last month, and having the time to watch the near-daily games has started to overcome my save-it-for-October tendencies. Last night I found myself excited for the big Tampa Bay game, even thinking about making nachos, a treat usually reserved for big football games.

Oh, the Patriots will always be #1 in my heart. But I think there’s some room for the baseball.