Super Bowl Monday

I've long since isolated myself from anyone who would be talking about the actual game, and so the closest I got was a conversation or two about commercials. This year, sadly I couldn't even comment on too many of those. I didn't even have the heart to watch that. My relationship with sports has officially reached rock bottom. Not only am I not into them, but I can't, for the life me, figure out how anyone could be. It's not just a waste of time, but a noisy, (apparently) addictive one. And my actual annoyance with sports themselves is compounded by a secondary annoyance at the message I perceive from a multibillion dollar industry that if I am not consuming their product that I am probably not only un-American, but not a man either. For nearly 30 years I've gotten by without really engaging in it, only pretending to care as necessary to fit in in my younger days and publicly denouncing them as I got older. Yet, after all these years, I haven't won a single person over.

And, so, I have resolved to see what the fuss is all about. For the next year, ending at the Super Bowl, I am going to try to be a sports fan. I cannot say what form that will take, because, never having been one, I don't know what a normal level of interest in sports is. I will probably say some things that seem stupid to a "real" fan, but I am okay with that. I am going to try to understand what the fuss is about without the years of fandom to cloud my mind. I am going to try to be open-minded about this, recognizing that I have a long ways to go.

For Day 1, I signed up for an ESPN.com account, came out as a new sports fan to a few of my closest friends and watched the last 10 minutes of the Magic/Hornets game which was surprisingly interesting for an NBA regular season game. Vince Carter scored nearly 50 points, 1 shy of his all-time high and, of course, his highest ever as a member of the Magic. The crowd gave a "standing ovation" according to the TNT announcer. I watched with the sound on this time, just to dive in feet first. Predictably, it grated on one big nerve, but I made it for about 20 minutes before having to mute it again. Just so the level of sacrifice is clear, I was forgoing Family Guy, Hoarders, Nate Berkus and South Park to watch this. The sports gods had better accept my offering.

I close day one with a Super Bowl Monday observation. I am still not sure what all the fuss was about, but I took away from Tebow's commercial that if you survive your extremely dangerous pregnancy, then your child too may grow up to be a successful quarterback and extremely good-looking. That's the kind of message I can get behind.

Pointless.