Sunday, June 22, 2014

I AM interested in sports...culture.

5 Minutes:
When it comes to breeding sports fans, my parents have a strong batting average: 0.666. It'd be even higher if you got bonus points for creating a kid who ends up majoring in sports management and another who has several close friends on the payroll of a professional baseball team. My siblings are sports fanatics. I, on the other hand, am finding my way to sporting events mostly to be a good mom. So far, both of my kids enjoy playing sports; one REALLY seems into watching, too.

I don't dislike sports or sporting events, but I'm more interested in the people playing them—and also those watching. This afternoon, here are some of the thoughts that ran through my head as I sat in the stands of Centennial Field watching a game between the Vermont Lake Monsters and the Connecticut Tigers:
  • I wonder if hearing Elton John's "Bennie and the Jets" whenever he walks makes the Bennie guy (Joe Bennie, of the Lake Monsters) hate—or love—his name?
  • Look at them doing those calisthenics down there—I wonder if the team exercises together all the time. Who leads them through those moves?
  • That player from Santa Cruz (I forget which team): Growing up, was he all about "keeping it weird"?
  • I wonder if the Lake Monsters have a marketing person who writes bios about all the players'  favorite foods and such. 
  • That would be fun. 
  • I think I remember a piece in The New Yorker about the marketing person for the Mets doing this. And people finding that fluffy and strange. Maybe I'm making that up. 
  • Still, that would be a fun job. 
  • I can't believe that Olin has never noticed that I put ketchup—not mustard and relish—on my hotdogs. In the FIFTEEN years we've been together. 
  • Mustard and relish on a dog taste good.
  • I think I would have made a great mascot. Dancing and acting without having to talk or sing. How awesome would that be?
  • How often do seagulls often get hit with baseballs? 
This went on and on... Then we came home and watched a bit of the World Cup. My inquiring mind continued:
  • Why is our goalie dressed like a banana?
  • Does that yellow mean something?
  • Why is their goalie wearing green?
  • I'm confused. 
  • I wonder if that big beard makes our goalie hot. Like warm, not attractive. But he is quite attractive. I wonder what he'd look like without that beard.  
My stream of consciousness represents one who is totally uninformed about soccer. But the comment of one of my kids suggests that we're not doing a great job of informing them about world goings-on (or perhaps they're watching too much Chima). Upon learning that Portugal's goal meant that we had not won, he said, "That's REALLY bad."

"No, it's OK. It's really disappointing, but that's how these things go," I told him.

"But wasn't this the war to see if we keep our country?"

Um... no. But wouldn't that be such a better way? 

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