The guy seated in section 102, row T, seat 6 at the MCI Center in Washington can hear you. He just chooses to ignore you.

	Stacey Dales-Schuman, the No. 3 overall draft pick, is the bread winner in her family.

Every taunt, every jeer, every snide aside. His wife is a punk. I can take her one-on-one -- she's a woman.

Chris Schuman has heard them all.

Washington Mystics rookie forward Stacey Dales-Schuman answers hecklers by swishing 15-footers.

Husband Chris does not have that luxury.

"One or two times I've almost ... I have a bad ... you know when you stick up for your family and you get that temper?'' Schuman said. "I've heard people say, 'How is she an All-American? All-Americans don't do that with the ball.' I want to turn around and be like, 'I didn't know you were a two-time All-American.' Times like that you want to be mad, but you just kind of hold it in.''

It's a new role in professional sports: the slugger's husband. For more than a century, wives have endured their spouse's demanding schedules, the taunts in the stands and so much more.

Today a first generation of men married to women in high-profile team sports is learning to cope with those same aggravations.

And keeping your ego in check is an important first step. In the stands and at home.

"I've always been the guy that's gonna be the first to help you and always the last to want the spotlight,'' Schuman said. "I don't get off on being in the sunshine. I like her being more on the pedestal and me in the background. She knows that without what I've done for her and what we do as a team, her pedestal is not that high.''

The 24-year-old Schuman does plenty. Currently between jobs, the affable Houston native kids about his role as "Mr. Mom'' and says he spends his days doing laundry, cooking and tending to their three yellow Labradors: Gracie, Allie and Cadence.

In college, Chris spent hours with Stacey on the court at University of Oklahoma, where they met in class two years ago.

	Stacey Dales-Schuman Guard/forward | 6-0 Washington Mystics Oklahoma '02 WNBA.com profile
	2002 SEASON STATISTICS G MPG FG 3FG APG PPG 15 30.3 43.8 44.1 3.2 12.3

"I can't tell you how many times I've rebounded for her -- thousands of shots,'' he said. "Your neck is sore looking up at the rim.''

These days, the home crowd at the MCI Center has adopted Dales-Schuman as a fan favorite. Unlike his wife, Chris can move anonymously through the stands, occasionally stopping to hand out Mystics player cards his wife has autographed.

"It's real crazy to see people wear her jersey here. That freaks me out,'' Schuman said. "I'm like, 'Wow! Someone just spent $45 just because they like Stacey.' ''

On a typical game day Chris drives Stacey to the arena two hours before tipoff. They talk little. Stacey is usually pumping herself up by listening to the rock bands Limp Bizkit and Godsmack mix Chris made her.

During the game he doesn't just watch. He also studies what's happening on the court, pointing out players' tendencies and lauding the merits of the women's game.

"They're just as good as guys, they just don't jump as high and they are not as strong,'' he said. "I think the women are better shooters. That's what their forte is. And they play a lot better defense. ... The women's game is more fundamentally sound.''

But it is not nearly as lucrative.

Stacey makes $57,500 a year playing for the Mystics. And after Chris supported her through much of college and even bought her a car, she's now supporting him.

"Teamwork,'' he says. Chris takes much pride in Stacey's success in college (Oklahoma went to the 2002 NCAA title game), on the Canadian Olympic team and as one of the best young players in the WNBA.

The one area of his life of which he is not proud: on the court against his wife.

"I'm oh-for-the century,'' he said, laughing. "We always play to seven. Five is my best. She's not fair. Before I would tell people, 'She's an Olympian. How am I supposed to compete with that?' Now I say, 'She's a professional. How am I supposed to compete with that?'