I surfed my way over to the end of the Yankees/Sox game last night and was totally drawn in. For like a whole minute. Okay I guess that's not 'drawn in', but since a scant glimpse of a bat or a helmet or a ball or a puck makes my remote finger go into hyper-click, a full minute was like a religious conversion. The scene was an intoxicating puzzle. I know absolutely nothing about the sport or either team (other than one is from New York and the other is from Boston, which I learned by reading the bottom of the screen) but I could guess that something historical was going down based on all the yelling and cheering and spitting and scrotal sac investigations, and the fact that it was well past midnight, and still going strong. That much I got. My understanding ended there however, sent me packing to the Will & Grace rerun on channel 11.
My relationship with sports is strange, baseball in particular. I want to love it, honest. But when people try to explain their love of sports to me it sounds like parents trying to explain sex to the four year old who just caught them in the act. The kid can get over the notion that their parents turn into many-tentacled creatures who (as it seems through the wall) beat the fuck out of one another on a regular basis... that it instead has something to do with a feeling of connection and love and fun and joy. I mean, we understood that people 'did it' when we were little, we just couldn't understand why. It just seemed so messy and gross. Why would anyone choose to do something so awful... willingly? Yuck.
But I remain hopeful. I seemed to have grasped the whole 'why' of the sex thing pretty well (no comments please), so it only stands to reason that one day I'll be able to do the same with America's second favorite pastime, right?
Posted by Antigeist at October 17, 2003 03:40 PM