I cannot comprehend the appeal of watching sports.
Once upon a warm summer afternoon, while I was cheering on my child at a little league softball game in a park in Brooklyn, a fellow dad approached me wearing a Baltimore Orioles cap. Curious about the hat, he inquired about my attendance at the recent Orioles game.
"No, I was an Orioles fan as a kid," I replied, "but I don't follow them now."
Unperturbed, he insisted on sharing various details about the recent game I was unaware of, mentioned some players I didn't recognize, and tried hard to establish a bond as if I were a fellow fan. However, I am not an Orioles fan. I just appreciate the hat.
This sports mix-up has happened to me multiple times before. Apparently, I am sometimes mistaken for someone who cares about sports due to my gender.
As a child growing up in Baltimore, I cherished attending the first game of the 1983 World Series with my dad, but my fondness for the Orioles was more about spending precious time with him. Since my parents divorced when I was an infant and was raised by my mom, I relished those moments with a significant adult figure in my life. Later in college, the joy of going to basketball games stemmed from being with friends and sharing our enthusiasm. Once these experiences came to an end, so did my interest in these sports.
The connection between those times and watching one of those teams on TV now would be equivalent to reminiscing about the taste of ice cream after seeing someone else eat it.
Jerry Seinfeld once quipped that cheering for a sports team over multiple years amounted to nothing more than rooting for some clothes. "You're actually rooting for the uniform, when you get down to it," he mused. "You are standing and cheering and yelling for your clothes to beat the clothes from another city."
I feel a similar absurdity when forced to watch sports unrelated to my children, which is no less enjoyable than watching them performing on stage or in a recital.
The difference is that the outcomes of political contests don't conveniently reset at the beginning of the next season.
Although I am not opposed to sports, participating in them provides considerable physical, mental, and social benefits. I have my own experiences with playing sports. Yes, some sports are violent or brain-injuring; I wish such games would cease to exist and payers wouldn't risk developing dementia. as I did as a child in a boxing league – it was a therapeutic experience..
It's the watching, and being invested in professional sports as an adult, that remains a mystery to me.
After the Super Bowl, my friend Jesse cried as his hometown team lost. I commiserated with him but couldn't comprehend the depth of his emotions, describing a competition involving professional athletes that essentially constituted a drama with physical injuries. When I asked him why the loss of his team affected him so deeply, he compared his team to another underdog one and mentioned good old times, feeling invested, and how he was living on the other side of the country from his hometown at the time of that specific Super Bowl. These factors made little sense to me; it was as if I were attempting to make a dog appreciate literature, music, or sports.
While I appreciate the camaraderie and enjoy making connections, my indifference to the subject of sports prevents me from joining in.
Yet, I still share election nights with my friends, and I'd be delighted if you want to join me and become emotionally invested in those contests. My wife makes excellent nachos!
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In the park, I introduced myself as a former Orioles fan, but I explained that I no longer follow the team.Even when attending a sporting event with my child, I find myself detached from the passion and enthusiasm displayed by fellow fans.
