What It's Like To Be A Man Who Doesn't Care About SportsFiled under Rants and Raves
Being a man who doesn’t give a shit about sports is a lot like being a Jew on Christmas, if it was Christmas every single day of the year. Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to live in exile from male civilization? Well, I’m about to fill in that blank for you.
I literally know nothing about sports. And I’m not using literally figuratively. If you gave me three hours I couldn’t find ESPN on the TV Guide. I have no clue what a linebacker does or when baseball season starts or how many innings there are in a basketball game.
So what’s it like being me? Well, I’m glad you asked: it fucking sucks.
If you think about it, any time one human chills with another human, there are only three possible conversation topics: you, me, or some 3rd Topic --- the Polar Vortex, Game of Thrones, Chilean Sea Bass, etc. For men, who generally avoid talking about themselves or others, that 3rd Topic is sports 95% of the time. That means that when I’m sitting in a living room with a gaggle of men drinking beer, 95% of the conversation may as well be taking place in Hungarian. To paraphrase Bright Lights Big City, I’m locked out of the largest fraternity in the country.
Why am I like this? You might be tempted to think that it’s just my shtick, that I get off on being a contrarian and harbor a deep-seated desire to be different from everyone else, like a Goth girl who’s actually pretty cute under all that face paint.
But that’s not it. I want to give a shit about sports. I just can’t. Because I don’t get it. Why am I supposed to prefer the Giants to the Patriots? Because my Dad likes the Giants, just like his Dad liked the Giants? And why did my Grandfather like the Giants? Because he lived in New York City, and you’re supposed to root for your home team.
Ok, but what if my Great-Grandfather had run over a gypsy wizard’s wife, and in retaliation that wizard cast an evil spell on all future generations of the Weinberg family, condemning us all to live in Boston, the 3rd worst place in the world (before Somalia, after New Jersey)? Then wouldn’t I be a Patriots fan? What’s the difference, really, besides for the color of their little costumes? Jesus, if I wanted to be fanatical about a completely arbitrary system of beliefs, then I’d take up religion.
Look, I understand the appeal of rooting for The Yankees --- it would be really nice to have another venue for expressing my contempt towards other Americans. But if I’m in the mood to feel superior to people from Massachusetts, then I can just go spend a day in Boston. That’ll give me more than enough material. I don’t need any help being a smug dick about where I’m from, that comes very naturally to me. Also, it seems like most of the time your home team loses --- and why would I invest in an entertainment form that usually ends in sadness? Maybe you guys should see a psychiatrist about this masochistic fetish of yours, or hire a dominatrix.
Maybe it’s because I never played sports growing up. Maybe that would give me some appreciation for athletic prowess. But plenty of dweebs and fat people like sports, so why oh why can’t I?
The funny thing is that sports fandom looks pretty lame from the outside. Watching you people compare your Fantasy Football stats is just about the dorkiest thing I’ve ever seen --- it’s like some bizarre socially acceptable version of Magic: The Gathering. And when you put on your team’s little costumes and paint your face up with their colors, isn’t that kind of like being a male cheerleader? When did that become cool? Also, don’t you ever feel bad about yourself when you’re sitting on a couch stuffing your face with Tostitos watching someone else run for their lives on live television? Don’t you ever get that feeling like you used to get after playing The Sims for 12 hours and suddenly realizing how pathetic it is that ordering a pixilated imaginary friend to take a poop in your dollhouse is more entertaining than living your own life?