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I've no scientific evidence to support
it, but I believe the human genetic code includes a "sports gene".
This gene is responsible for making those who have it obsess over
pennant races, earned run averages, field goal percentages, shots
on goal, and any of a million other statistics used to try to
quantify sports activities. This gene makes otherwise sane people
dress up in outfits of the same color, smear their faces with
paint, and chant silly slogans like "Batter, batter, batter, SWING,
batter..." It makes them spend inordinate amounts of money on
sports logo clothing, sports logo stickers, sports logo pens,
sports logo paper, sports logo flags, sports logo food, and even
sports logo toilets. Yet, while I'm certain this gene exists, I'm
equally certain that I don't have it.
I know I don't have it because I don't have an urge to own any
sports-related paraphernalia. If I have anything with a sports logo
on it, it was a gift, or it happened to be cheaper than a logo-less
item of the same type. I don't smear my face with colored makeup
on game day. In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't even know when
"game day" is.
On my own, I will not sit down and watch sports in person or on
television. It just doesn't interest me. I'll get more enjoyment
out of watching a documentary on the mating habits of the common
fruit fly than out of watching the Super Bowl or World Series.
Watching a sporting event is about as interesting to me as watching
a group of retirees play Yahtzee.
There is nothing less interesting to me than the "color commentary"
of sportcasters and those sports shows like the ones on ESPN where
two people hold up masks of famous sports-related figures and
pretend to be those people having some kind of discussion. Maybe
I'm mentally defective in some way, but I can't imagine any
situation where I'd enjoy watching two commentators pretending to
be someone else, discussing ANYTHING. Seeing Bill Gates debate
Steve Jobs over why the Mac's security isn't as good as Vista's
would be interesting. Watching John Dvorak and Guy Kawasaki
pretending to be Steve Jobs and Bill Gates having that debate
wouldn't. Perhaps nothing is more conclusive evidence of my lack
of the sports gene than the fact that I can't see why anyone would
want to watch any of the "sports talk" programs that don't at the
very least feature an athlete or coach or manager from that sport
on the panel, or why anyone would bother to call into a sports
radio show. There's obviously some appeal there, but I don't get
it. I really, really don't.
Not having the sports gene is a good thing in many ways. I've gone
to normally-crowded restaurants during the Super Bowl and been
escorted straight to a table, where I received excellent service
because practically no one else was there. I've been able to spend
my money learning skills that have helped me on the job, rather
than on sports logo merchandise. I've found it much easier to
relate to women, many of whom also do not have the gene and do not
see the appeal of sports. My marriage is probably stronger, too,
since I don't neglect my wife because "the game" is on or spend
all my time in front of the TV watching ESPN, the Golf Channel, and
all the other sports-related programming. I don't stand outside in
freezing weather cheering on a sports team, or spend hundreds of
dollars to watch sport events that I'll forget about in a year.
But there are some serious drawbacks to be sports-gene-free. For
one thing, conversations with my fellow men are often virtually
impossible. Most groups of men spend their time discussing who
traded who, who's playing who tonight, who got injured last week
and is now on the disabled list, and why their team needs a
left-handed pitcher. Drop me into this conversation and I do my
best to keep quiet, nod, and not be noticed. I've got NOTHING of
value to add, and I know it. I'm about as comfortable in the
middle of a sports discussion as most men would be sitting in on a
focus group for a new feminine hygiene product. My only hope in an
all-male conversation scenario is that they'll eventually drift
off the topic of sports and on to something I do know a little
about, like a popular television series or movie.
Am I better off without the sports gene? I don't know. I do know
it's genetic, though, and not learned behavior. I've tried to
watch sports and enjoy them at different times in my life. I just
don't. It seems I genetically "can't" get into sports. Sports
fans tell me that it's the marvel of watching athletes at the peak
of physical perfection performing complicated maneuvers better than
their rivals, that it's the strategy of choosing the right play at
the right time, of standing behind a group of people who represent
your city, state, or country. I get that. I still don't find it
interesting. If you can't see my point of view, perhaps this will
help.
Imagine that instead of two sports teams taking the field in
opposition, it's two accounting firms, each leaders in their
field, one representing your city/state, and the other representing
a rival. Both teams will be given the most challenging accounting
tasks in the world to complete, and the winner will be the firm
whose bookkeeping is the quickest and most accurate. The starting
gun is fired, the accountants go into a huddle, then sit down at
their desks to start "accounting". A couple of hours later, one of
them turns in a ledger that's complete and accurate. They win. The
crowd goes nuts. They've never seen such a group of highly trained
professionals accomplish such marvels of business acumen in so
little time, so well.
Would you, as a sports fan, enjoy sitting in front of your
television watching two hours of people going through complicated
accounting acrobatics? I can hear the sportscasters now, "Wow,
Phil, look at the speed at which Jenkins adds up those debits and
credits! He's amazing!" and "Did you see that? Johnson is
depreciating that company car over 3 years instead of 5! He's
going to save the company hundreds this year. They sure made a good
decision when they hired him from SmithCo last season." I'm
betting that you'd find this accounting competition dreadfully
dull. In spite of that, it has all the same elements that I'm told
make a sporting event worth watching. Two teams, at the height of
perfection, representing their communities, competing in a public
spectacle, doing something beyond the reach of most of us.
If you tell me the accounting competition sounds like an exciting
idea, I'd be a little concerned about you, even if you were an
accountant. As uninteresting as that competition may sound to a
sports fan, that's exactly the way sporting events strike me if I
sit down to watch them. At the end of the day, the accountant's
work will at least have yielded a ledger that solved some business
problem and perhaps made or saved a company money. The athlete's
work will have resulted in a pile of meaningless statistics and a
ball/puck/etc. being moved back and forth on a playing field for a
couple of hours. This, to me, is sports in a nutshell. A bunch of
people who've spent far too much time training to play a game get
paid to spend a couple of hours moving around in front of an
audience. More entertaining than watching grass grow, but far less
entertaining (and much more expensive) than a rock concert.
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