It's A Sports World (I Just Live In It)

(I posted this last month, but it felt incomplete and I took it down. Since then, it's grown so much, that it's being presented in several parts.)





PART I



I'm hanging out with a group of friends at a bar. We're exchanging funny stories and funny anecdotes. I've got a story to tell myself, so in between sips of my bloody mary, I'm listening and awaiting my turn to chime in. Just then, someone notices the television in the corner and says: "Hold it, scores are in… Jets 13, Ravens 3.”

“Uh oh” I think to myself. Then it starts.

"Jets are lookin’ real good this year.”

“They got Brett Farve, whad'ya expect?"

"We’ll see. You check out Dallas this week? Romo's the best quarterback out there."

In less than a minute, my fears are realized: no one remembers what we were talking about. It's all about who’s got a better offense, who got traded, who's injured, who's coaching, who's in first place...and so on and so forth.

Suddenly I have an important call to make. Wait…can’t think of anyone to call. On second thought, I need to check e-mail. Yeah that's it. Checking my iPhone, no new e-mail. Shit. Just get me out of here!

The above scenario is a regular occurrence in my life. Stimulating topics swallowed by a sea of statistics. Colorful conversations dimmed by clouds of testosterone. Opinions thrown back and forth like the oval object around which they are centered: a football.

I've tried to get in on the fun. I see major American cities like Pittsburgh and Cleveland turn into giant block parties on game day. It looks like a great time and it's hard not to admire the coming together of so much of the population. Friends occasionally get me to watch a game. I admit to having a good time but just can't muster up the same enthusiasm. If it's between a ball game and a movie, concert or other activity, I pick the latter. I can't keep track of all the teams, players, coaches, plays and scores. Where do people find the time in the day to process all this information? Where do they find room in their brains to store it? Who really cares about this stuff?

Everyone except me, apparently. It’s a sports world. I just live in it.

How is it that people from all walks of life, from senator to janitor, from professor to postal worker, people with nothing in common whatsoever, can become instant buddies by simply talking about sports? Meanwhile I'm left in the cold, stuck on the bench. In the bleechers. The nose bleed seats.

I find myself doing things to try to fit in to this whole sports thing. One of the tours I do has a weekly 'football pool.' I enter sometimes. It costs twenty bucks. Basically you have a sheet with all the NFL games going on during the week, where the game is being played and what each times record is so far this season. I first decided to give it a go last year. Everyone was as shocked as I was when, thanks to a couple lucky picks, expert advice from a friend and a rare missed field goal by some poor kicker on the Indianapolis Colts, I walked away seven hundred dollars richer.

Playing that football pool has given me some insight into the game and enabled me to survive the football conversations that take place around me on the most basic level. However, I still can't imagine spending my Sundays, Monday Nights, some Thursdays and Saturdays in front of the TV.

I've spent holidays with families of friends who sit and watch football all day. The room is silent other than the game blaring out from the TV like static. I suppose that for many families, this game on TV is the one thing that brings them together. I can respect that, but sometimes it dulls my senses and just makes me numb. The drone-like white noise of the crowd, the announcers with their fake buddy behavior and forced laughter, the third grader humor of the beer and pizza commercials.

I respect the passion my fellow citizens have for these teams, but I don't understand how love or hate of a certain team gets so intense. Some guys will not let it go if they don't like a team. For example, a few years ago, I was at a bar while the Major League Baseball play offs were on TV. It was the Boston Red Sox gunning for their first World Series title against the New York Yankees. The Red Sox had never won a World Series Championship, while the Yankees had won too many to count. I couldn't help asking my friend sitting next to me, a hardcore Yankees fan born and raised in New York: is it really so terrible if the Red Sox win? Wouldn't that be fair? Just this once?

He sipped his whiskey and glanced up at to the TV, which showed the Red Sox dug out. He cleared his throat, looked me in the eye and addressed me with the seriousness of a doctor delivering grim news.

"They ain't nice people, Skol." he said.