Play ball

I have a confession to make. And it’s a bit of a shocker.

I am a bigger sports fan than ill ever admit.


I know you’re thinking, what’s the big deal? I’m a guy, of course I’m supposed to be a sports fan. But see, there’s the thing. for a big chunk of my life I’ve been adamant in being the anti-macho type of guy, the kind who’d rather listen to records and read books than play football. I got picked on in school for being bad at basketball and soccer, and being about as physically fit as a malnourished gazelle made me avoid track and field and football and hockey altogether.

Then I got older, and decided that well, baseball’s ok. It’s become one of the things that I’ve had to share and appreciate with my dad, who loves sports and loved the New York Yankees. And of course how can you not like hockey? One of the best movies ever, Slapshot, is about hockey.

This past Superbowl, I came to the realization that as I watched the football game, because that’s what goes on during the Superbowl, that I ACTUALLY KNEW WHAT WAS GOING ON. It amazed me that I could follow the game. Even when I was adamant of my love of classic NY baseball and in hockey, I held onto one belief, and one belief only.

As long as I didn’t fall for football, it’d be ok.

And I stuck to it for a long time. Football’s for fucking meatheads, after all. In fact, NY jets fans are notorious for goading female fans at the stadium into taking their shirts off. Who the fuck does that? A goddamn savage, that’s who.

And yet…I just know. I just know how a good play looks in football, I know some of the basics of scoring, and ill be damned if the endings of sports movies like Friday Night Lights and Remember The Titans don’t get to me and choke me up just a little bit. Now, this doesn’t mean that I think that Field Of Dreams is the end-all be-all of filmmaking and I don’t worship at the altar of John Madden. John Madden is a weird old man on TV that I make fun of on a semi-regular basis.

There really isn’t a point here, I’m just sort of rambling. I mean it’s impossible for me to come to any single conclusion here. There isn’t one, because then that would imply that I’ve come to a single defining statement about my own identity, and I’m not totally comfortable with that right now.

Whatever, I don’t mean to get existential right now. I just see it as really weird and a little interesting that I’ve reached this point in my life where I can appreciate sports so much more, and how it doesn’t seem like a big deal to me to sit down and maybe watch some hockey or the World Series or even college football, whereas a decade ago, I would have bristled at it and immersed myself in watching Clerks or Boondock Saints for the millionth time, or probably listened to a Bad Religion record in my room by myself.

Did you expect some sort of resolution? Sorry to disappoint. All I really got right now is a growing appreciation for hip-hop and a resignation with the facts that unfortunately, I am more manly than I like.

Anybody want a beer?



About Costa

I'm a writer, teacher, baseball fan, old punk, and avid reader.
This entry was posted in beer, blogging, random, sports stuff. Bookmark the permalink.

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