I Just Don’t Get It: Why Do People Care About Professional Sports?
Editor’s Note: This piece is part of our ongoing series, “I Just Don’t Get It,” where we explore the baffling popularity of certain people, things, activities, and cultural phenomena.
The NBA Finals are upon us, a sentence I write with zero excitement. This annual spectacle, like other professional sports championships, always serves as a stark reminder of my sports agnosticism. It’s a truth I can’t hide, even with a strategically chosen baseball cap.
You see, I’m often mistaken for a sports fan. Perhaps it’s my gender, leading to assumptions about my interests. This happened recently while watching my daughter’s softball game. Another dad, noticing my Baltimore Orioles cap, launched into a detailed recap of the previous night’s game. I tried to explain, “I was a fan as a kid, but I don’t follow them now.” He remained undeterred, caught up in his own enthusiasm. I realized I wasn’t speaking to a fellow fan, but to a fellow fan of the idea of a fan.
This isn’t an isolated incident. Countless times, I’ve been cornered into conversations about sports, expected to share in the excitement of wins and the agony of defeats. But the truth is, I feel neither.
The Ghost of Fandom Past
Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand the appeal of sports on a personal level. I cherish childhood memories of Orioles games with my dad, the joy magnified by our limited time together. College basketball games were electric, fueled by shared energy with friends. But those experiences were about connection, not the sport itself. Watching a game now would be like trying to recapture the joy of ice cream by watching someone else eat it – a pale imitation.
Jerry Seinfeld once joked that being a lifelong fan is like “rooting for the clothes,” cheering for a uniform rather than a team. And that’s precisely how it feels to me – a bizarre allegiance to fabric and logos. Where are the real-world stakes? The drama feels manufactured, a soap opera with more sweat and fewer compelling plotlines.
Politics: The Real Spectator Sport
Compare this to politics, my true passion. Election nights fill me with the same nail-biting tension sports fans describe, but with actual consequences. The wins and losses resonate beyond the screen, shaping our lives in tangible ways. The drama is real, not a manufactured narrative that resets every season.
This isn’t to say I’m anti-sports. I appreciate the physical and mental benefits of playing, even participating in boxing as a kid (which felt more therapeutic than violent). But watching professional sports as an adult? That’s where my understanding ends.
I Just Don’t Get It: Why Do People Care About Professional Sports?
Editor’s Note: This piece is part of our ongoing series, “I Just Don’t Get It,” where we explore the baffling popularity of certain people, things, activities, and cultural phenomena.
The NBA Finals are upon us, a sentence I write with zero excitement. This annual spectacle, like other professional sports championships, always serves as a stark reminder of my sports agnosticism. It’s a truth I can’t hide, even with a strategically chosen baseball cap.
You see, I’m often mistaken for a sports fan. Perhaps it’s my gender, leading to assumptions about my interests. This happened recently while watching my daughter’s softball game. Another dad, noticing my Baltimore Orioles cap, launched into a detailed recap of the previous night’s game. I tried to explain, “I was a fan as a kid, but I don’t follow them now.” He remained undeterred, caught up in his own enthusiasm. I realized I wasn’t speaking to a fellow fan, but to a fellow fan of the idea of a fan.
This isn’t an isolated incident. Countless times, I’ve been cornered into conversations about sports, expected to share in the excitement of wins and the agony of defeats. But the truth is, I feel neither.
The Ghost of Fandom Past
Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand the appeal of sports on a personal level. I cherish childhood memories of Orioles games with my dad, the joy magnified by our limited time together. College basketball games were electric, fueled by shared energy with friends. But those experiences were about connection, not the sport itself. Watching a game now would be like trying to recapture the joy of ice cream by watching someone else eat it – a pale imitation.
Jerry Seinfeld once joked that being a lifelong fan is like “rooting for the clothes,” cheering for a uniform rather than a team. And that’s precisely how it feels to me – a bizarre allegiance to fabric and logos. Where are the real-world stakes? The drama feels manufactured, a soap opera with more sweat and fewer compelling plotlines.
Politics: The Real Spectator Sport
Compare this to politics, my true passion. Election nights fill me with the same nail-biting tension sports fans describe, but with actual consequences. The wins and losses resonate beyond the screen, shaping our lives in tangible ways. The drama is real, not a manufactured narrative that resets every season.
This isn’t to say I’m anti-sports. I appreciate the physical and mental benefits of playing, even participating in boxing as a kid (which felt more therapeutic than violent). But watching professional sports as an adult? That’s where my understanding ends.
The Agony and the Ecstasy (That I Don’t Feel)
I’ve seen friends devastated by their team’s loss, their grief mirroring the loss of a loved one. I understand empathy, but this level of emotional investment in a game with multi-millionaire athletes and choreographed halftime shows? It’s baffling to me.
When I’ve pressed for explanations, it often boils down to nostalgia, a sense of belonging, or hometown pride. These are all valid emotions, but they don’t translate to my experience. It’s like trying to explain the beauty of a sunset to someone who’s colorblind. Maybe it’s a matter of brain chemistry, some missing gene that makes me immune to the allure of athletic competition.
The Quest for Common Ground (Without a Foul Ball)
Part of me wishes I could understand the appeal of professional sports. I crave connection, the shared experience of cheering for a common cause. But forcing myself to care about professional sports feels inauthentic, like joining a book club and pretending to enjoy novels I find tedious. I’ve tried, really tried, to get into the whole sports thing. I’ve watched games with die-hard fans, hoping their enthusiasm would be contagious. I even joined a fantasy football league once, thinking that having some skin in the game (so to speak) might spark something. It didn’t.
Instead, I found myself getting overly competitive, trash-talking my friends with a ferocity that surprised even me. It was then I realized: my competitive spirit wasn’t dormant, it just needed a different outlet. Give me a heated political debate or a cutthroat game of Scrabble, and I’m all in. But ask me to name the starting lineup of the local basketball team, and you might as wel ask me to explain the infield fly rule in Sanskrit.
To Each Their Own (and Pass the Remote)
So, while you’re glued to the screen for the NBA Finals, I’ll be engaging in my own form of entertainment. Election season is just around the corner, and I’ll be glued to those results with genuine anticipation. And if you’re interested in dissecting exit polls and celebrating political victories, my door is always open. My wife makes a mean batch of nachos. Just don’t ask me about the score of the game.