I hate sports. No scratch that. I hate watching sports. There’s a big difference.
I love hiking and I go running on a daily basis (although “jogging” might be a slightly more accurate term)
I always take the stairs. Not because I’m claustrophobic or afraid of elevators, but because I want to.
I love the rush you get when you’ve just done something really physically challenging; feeling your adrenaline pumping. That feeling of being alive!
I get it. Sport is good. Sport is healthy. Sport is necessary.
What I don’t get is watching sports on TV. If you do, please stop reading, because this rant is about to get even worse.
The true essence of sport is a healthy mind in a healthy body. Mens sana in corpore sano. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think Roman poet Juvenal was referring to sitting on the couch with a six-pack of Budweiser and an XXL pepperoni pizza, whilst shouting insulting stuff at referees who can’t even hear you.
You know who I’m referring to: people addicted to watching sports on TV, but hardly do any form of physical exercise themselves. (Apart maybe from going to the chippy around the corner… No wait, even then they would take the car!)
A lot of people will argue that airing sports on TV is a good thing because it inspires people at home to take up a sport as well. Although this may be true in some cases, most of the time this only results in a brand-new pair of expensive running shoes standing on the shoe shelf. Neglected and unused.
Airing games on TV doesn’t boost sport. It kills it. (The only thing it may boost is hooliganism and intolerance)
There. I said it. I warned you it wouldn’t be nice.
My attitude towards sports on TV often leads to rather uncomfortable conversations with sport fans. I remember a conversation with some classmates at UNI a couple of months ago. They were discussing “the game” from the night before. First of all, I had no idea “the game” had taken place. Secondly, I didn’t have a clue what “the game” stood for and thirdly (most importantly), I couldn’t care less about “the game”, let alone “the outcome”. Consequently, I had no opinion on the matter whatsoever. While my friends were cheerfully discussing tactics and some “memorable moments”, one of them turned to me and asked bluntly: “What did you think about the game?”
I ended up doing this:
I gave in.
But what I actually wanted to say was:
And then finally, I felt like this:
However, and this is a however of unseen magnitude, I love watching Usain Bolt. It’s probably the only time I watch sports on TV and the reason I love it has nothing to do with sports, the game, or who might win, but everything with a woman’s primal instinct to get herself an Alpha male (read: someone tall, muscular and fast). Basically every woman wants a man who can take care of her and their future children. It’s in a woman’s DNA. So the fact that I have the hots for Usain Bolt isn’t silly, it’s pure calculated biology. Hey, don’t blame me, blame Darwin and his survival of the fittest Theory.
So last night I was sitting in front of the TV. Watching Sports. Watching Bolt.
And it was awesome! Seriously, did you see his arms? Those alone should be given an entire TV channel!