Sports? Ok I will go on the record and confess to enjoying a good game of Football, thats the kind of Football that everyone other than North American’s play, it is, or can, be poetry in motion. I like hockey too it is fast and dependent on player stamina; I wouldn’t call it poetry but it does have its own brutal elegance. However, sports in general is tiresome just a romanticized way for the immature to imagine they are warriors of old…well a romantic vision of what a warrior male or female is.
That is bad enough but what is even worse is the childish language associated with sports. The stating of the obvious or daring to imagine what a player is thinking.
The heavily pressed suits and over stuffed shirts sitting behind gleaming desks in glossy studios muttering endless inanities. They are about as pointless as right wing politicos and less professional than the man on the street.
I am sure the highly coiffed decoratively slinky women presenters know as much as the male counterparts, or they can follow a script just as well, but really they offer no more value than the perennial question of “How do you feel.” to the Captain whose team has just had their assholes handed to them.
It gets worse my diatribe surrounding sports. Post game analysis is just a means to prolong an event that should have ended with the final whistle. It honestly does not matter what a stuffed shirt thinks that last shrill note is it. Not even the artistically moussed can talk a bad call back. As they will often say “It is what it is” Fade to black and bring on the Power Rangers.
The jargon, the metaphors, sports homespun philosophies and the fact that sports casts are often longer than a news cast on any radio show. From my battered keyboard I scream “Imbalance!” And why must I listen to details on every tiny teeny bopper game played in some misbegotten corner of the continent or university town of who cares where?
Ok I will be generous now I have vented my rectum. Sports is fun to take part in and watch now an then. It is not a holy crusade, it is not hoards of vanquishing warriors brandishing your hometown banner. You are not Monarch of the heap when your team wins. And, if you live vicariously through your teams efforts believing you have become imbued magical gifts then, in my opinion, you are a sorry person. Grow up and pump some of that enthusiasm into what does matter like scalloped potatoes and the perfect cheeseburger.