Cult of Sports (2012)
October 14th, Saturday. I littered away the overwhelming majority of sunshine and fresh air on couches and bar stools - watching sports.
I live for close playoff games, radical and flippant commentary and the spoils of victory (even tangential). When I was a child I staid up all night in Moscow to watch European soccer and Formula 1 racing.
In the states, I learned the basic, relate-able, war like rules of American football. Today I can watch most fast paced, active, strategic sports, just don't bother me with preseason.
I even get bored by the regular season games unless someone bribes me to give a shit. Preseason and regular season are the ugly step brothers designed to prolong the season for advertising.
The first brother should never be let out of the house. The other one makes the cut as a human being, but usually doesn't have the looks or the personality to be captivating.
If your city's team makes it to the playoffs, you've got my attention. You don't need a Ph.D in baseball to relate to the die hard fans. With playoffs, (more) girls start talking sports and recent triumphs and tribulations carry weight.
Games become worthy of a discussion, even an argument. Playoffs crystalize priorities. I'll skip a solid first date, for a game 5-7 with a friend. Everyone belongs, especially the other side (you always need someone to hate, even in jest). Bonds are welded and bromance ensues; romance if you're lucky.
Playoffs sell you on a promise of a highlighted lifestyle. The game becomes a story, the movie that's being written in real time. We are social animals, so we empathize with our friends and strangers quite intensely when everyone watches the Warrior or the Giants make history.
The bond is a strong one (people can feel that social fire) and that's why we put up with advertising that lasts longer than the actual play time.
While pro-athlete-champions experience stratospheric rise to fame, the plebs (us) experience an instantaneous elation, a creation of a powerful memory that will keep you warm on depressing Monday morning.
When San Francisco Giants won their first World Series. Half a million people felt something special together. I remember Wilson's last pitch. It has been practically branded in to my pre frontal cortex. Likewise, I also remember the sun rise at Machu Pichu, the Great Wall, Iguazu falls and looking at Half Dome.
Unfortunately, now SF fans are spoiled, because the teams are good, so the juice is unlikely to be worth the squeeze.
The brighter images and relationships of your life define your personal history. Off-course the satisfaction with every day moments is the cornerstone but your life won't be measured by the brunches with in-laws (at least I fucking hope not).
These nodes of experience through time have the capacity for instant friendships and a significant deepening of existing ones. And life achievement and marriage aside, your relationship with friends will define you.
Great sports help write the highlight reals of your life, by making ordinary moments extra ordinary.
