Mizzou suffered a great loss yesterday. At least that’s what I heard, I was busy playing Oregon Trail on my phone while my friends were listening to the game (if it makes you feel any better, Martha died of dysentery right before we made it to the fort). While most of the population of Mizzou mourned our sad loss to Norfolk, I went about my evening. I mean sure, it’s kind of a bummer that we lost, but in all reality, I didn’t really care.
Before you grab your pitchforks and torches to get me, know that it wouldn’t matter what sport we were playing. I wouldn’t care. I just don’t care about sports in the same way normal people do.
This isn’t a new thing either. I’ve never cared about sports. When I was six, my mom signed me up for pee-wee soccer. I was so excited to get the cute little uniform, but my very first game, I ran over to my mom in the middle of the game crying and said, “They took the ball from me! I had it and they took it! And they kicked me in the shins! I need an ice pack.” I then spent the rest of the game cradling ice packs to my legs. And that was the end of my soccer career.
In junior high, I played both volleyball and basketball. I wasn’t very good at either. Volleyball I played mainly because my friends were playing, and I was taller than most of the guys, so I would look intimidating (at least before the game started). I played basketball again for the sake of pre game intimidation, and because my crush played and any extra time I could spend with him was a win in my book.
High school I came to my senses and didn’t even bother trying out for sports. I did however, have to suffer through P.E. still. I hated P.E. more than anything. There is nothing worse than having to 1) change in front of other girls whom you kind of know but not really and 2) be in a co-ed class where most of the guys were really attractive. It also didn’t help that my teacher was a die-hard runner and that was the worst possible thing for me to do at the time. During our warm up run, he would always walk up beside me (because I wouldn’t run, I’d just power walk) and say, “You know you’re being graded on attitude, Weathers,” to which I would reply, “I have an attitude, it’s just not a positive one.” Somehow I still got a B in that class.
It wasn’t until I got to college that I even began to give physical activity a positive thought. I didn’t know that exercise could actually be fun. Now (well, before I got Lyme Disease) I run, swim, do yoga and pilates, zumba, hip hop and the occasional circuit training.
Note none of the activities I like to do are “sports.” I really just don’t care about sports. I have tried to watch them. I end up asking those around me what’s going on that I miss most of the game. A lot of the contact sports seem really violent and I find myself yelling, “Be nice!” to the players rather than “Get ’em!” like the rest of the crowd. Non-contact sports are boring, because nothing seems to happen really.
The Olympics are coming up this summer, and I will tune in to watch that. Well, I’ll tune in to watch the gymnastics and the swimming. The other things aren’t that interesting (although if they have trampolining on tv, I may consider watching that).
So I don’t like sports. I can’t help it. I’ve tried. It just doesn’t appeal to me. I’ve come to the conclusion that some people become giddy at the prospect of their favorite team going to the Superbowl, and I become giddy over my favorite actor getting nominated for an Oscar. I am already beginning to plan for the 2013 Oscar Party that Kate, Rae and I are hosting (there may be a Pinterest board for it). I scour over movie trailers and reviews. I get more excited that I found a great recipe to try than I do when a baseball team wins its division championship (baseball is in divisions, right?).
We all have different tastes. You can watch the Superbowl. I’ll throw a football themed party for all of you to watch the game at. I don’t mind. You shouldn’t either.