Having little to no interest in sports of any kind is a lot like not being able to smell – most people tend to initially believe that I’m lying about it.
I understand it a little more with the sports thing. There’s no upside to not being able to smell, so I’ve never understood why people find it so easy to believe I’d make such a thing up. As I’ve discussed earlier, that tends to be what you all do, though.
With sports I think the idea is that I’m being pretentious, like a vegan or a marathon runner or a guy who thought the end of Lost was awesome. You know, because I can position myself above everyone else – look at me, I don’t concern myself with your mortal sporting events. Your athletic groupie antics confuse and bore me – away with you.
For a couple of years I didn’t have a television – it was the same way. I stopped telling people, because everybody wanted to fight about it.
Like in Pulp Fiction, Sam Jackson brings up a television show and Vincent Vega says, “I don’t have a television.”
Yes, but you are aware of the concept, right? You know what they are?
I’ve had that conversation before – I’m trying to learn here, progress.
And then damn – get rid of your television for a couple of years and then get a new one, listen to everyone dance around about falling off high horses. Like quitting AA or something, it’s like I wish we could all focus on that second “A” a little more.
So I think when I say that I don’t care about sports, people think that I’m pretending to not care about sports, so that I’ll look like an intellectual or something. Like this French guy I met one time, I mentioned eating in the car and he says, “In France, we do not eat in our cars.”
No kidding, I told him. If I got a three hour lunch I wouldn’t eat in my car either.
I’m not turning my nose up here, I’m reporting a fact. You shouldn’t invite me to your football party if the goal is really for us all to sit down and watch a football game. You shouldn’t tell me how anybody did in any kind of game last night. You shouldn’t refer to professional athletes by their last names and expect me to do anything but blink.
I really and truly don’t care who wins any game on the planet today or for the rest of the year – and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.
No, really – your athletic groupie antics confuse and bore me. I wouldn’t care what Lebron James was doing tonight unless it turned out he was doing it on the moon.
That doesn’t make me awesome or anything – I’ve never seen an episode of American Idol and I’ve never eaten a spoonful of pudding in my life. I think you’re all a bunch of weird and crazy children of God out there, and I’m not trying to judge you. I just don’t like Simon Cowell or sports or pudding.
I actually just started kind of getting into golf, when Tiger was out there a week or two ago, but I don’t know if that counts. There was a nineteen year-old Asian dude on there – he was cracking me up.
Anyway, by and large I deal with this awkward social phenomenon by vaguely, generally agreeing with folks around me, or sometimes by claiming to be mute.
It takes longer to explain to someone that you barely know who the hell Lebron James is, and that you don’t care if he plays in Cleveland or Paris, France, than it does to just sit there and have the kind of one-sided conversation that moms usually have while they’re ironing, with their four year old kids.
Mom, this dinosaur is a space dinosaur? And he’s got rocket feet? And these guys are all dinosaur hunters with mind control chips in them! And the whole table shakes when they fire off their cannons, look!
That’s nice dear.
Swap out the nouns and verbs and leave the tones in place, and that’s me sitting at a bar, trying not to have a conversation about Lebron Franking James.
Oh, it’s about Cleveland? Mother of God, just when I thought I couldn’t care any less.
It’s cool. Sometimes if I bet on a game – I never do so, because it’s illegal, but Greeno does – then I suddenly understand. Nothing makes you give a crap about the athletic skills and blind luck of total strangers quite like fifty bucks.
But I could care about a frog-jumping contest exactly as much, just by putting fifty bucks on Frog Number Six.
Is this supposed to be about Lebron James supporting his community or something? Not selling out?
I guess I kind of get that, but he could also break off a check for a hundred grand to an inner city Cleveland school, and then I’d be right back to not caring where he plays. My understanding is, he’s a pretty good guy – not caring what he does on a nightly basis doesn’t mean I harbor any ill will toward him.
I guess maybe I should read up on him a little bit. What does he play, basketball?