If there is a subject I know less about than anything else in the universe, it's sports.
When I was at school, I was always the last person to be picked for any team in PE class. My classmates would fight over who's turn it was to take on the person who would most likely secure their defeat in any match.
During baseball games, they'd place me in "outfield". The only thing I know about the outfield is that it's apparently the farthest place from any action and the place I'd do the least damage. They'd quite happily let me wander around out there for what seemed hours. Sometimes they'd make gestures that I was supposed to come in or something. I couldn't tell because I couldn't hear them or see them all that clearly. Eventually they'd give up motioning to me and the game would carry on. I always supposed that if it was that important, they'd send someone out to get me.
My Grandfather tried to get me involved in sports on a couple of occasions. He once asked me if I'd like to go and see the "jays" and the "tigers". I thought he meant the at the zoo.
A few years later in grade 8, our whole school was taken to the new SkyDome in Toronto to watch a game with the above mentioned "Jays" and "Tigers" (at least I knew they were baseball teams at that point). I tried to watch it, but really found it too dreadfully boring. I spent the rest of the afternoon reading Stephen Hawking's: "A Brief History of Time", and listening to Monty Python's Second Album on my Walkman.
I think it must be a North American "guy" thing to ask a person on meeting them for the first time what sports they follow.* I suppose with the vast amount of televised sporting events to choose from on this side of the Atlantic, that it's seen as a great equalizer, and something that everyone has some sort of opinion on.
I sure do. I hate sports.
I'm often asked by people I've recently met: "Did you see the game last night?"
Me: Uh, what game?
You'd think a response like that would be sufficient to end any further questioning along those lines, but it seems to prove no barrier whatsoever to a detailed recounting of the previous nights events, in which I politely (and poorly) feign interest. Most of the time I have absolutely no idea what sport they're even talking about.
To me, all sports seem to basically amount to the same thing. It's all about moving a ball (of varying sizes) from one end of a playing field to another using various methods or implements, with all sorts of arbitrary rules about what you can and can't do.
Well, what about hockey then, you may ask? It's a flattened ball.
Despite the fact that I'm very clearly not athletic, once people find out I don't watch any sports, they'll often pursue the line of inquiry as to what sports I play... which of course is none of them.
Sporty Person: You don't watch any sports.
Me: No.
Sporty Person: Well, what sports do you play?
Me: None of them.
Sporty Person: What about hockey?
Me: (Raised eyebrow) Really? Me?
Sporty Person: What about golf?
Golf is probably the most boring game involving a ball next to baseball. The general concept is to move the ball around 9 or 18 fields by whacking it repeatedly with various sizes of stick, depending on how much free time you have available. Occasionally there's a big pit of sand, pools of water, or roving gangs of angry old men** in terrible clothing to make the day that much more frustrating. The only thing more boring than playing golf is watching it, or listening to someone else's golfing stories (except for mine, of which I have two to relate).
When I was a 10, my grandfather (who was addicted to golfing), generously bought me my own set of golf sticks and took me out to the golf course to teach me how to play. We went to the driving range and he told me to whack the ball as far as I could. Eventually my stick connected with the ball and it went about three yards.
I was suitably impressed.
He wasn't. My grandfather and his friend told me to watch their technique and then spent the next three hours driving balls down the range. The only time they spoke to me was when they asked me to get them a couple of beers. At least they didn't ask me to retrieve all their balls. I threw in the towel after that***.
My next bout with golf was at a bachelor party for a friend of mine.
I was almost invited to leave the premises by the club owners... not because I had dug a sizable crater on the first tee (they hadn't discovered it at that point), or because I'd been driving the golf cart like a maniac, trying to get "air" going over the small hills, but because I wanted to take a lunch break, which was to them, unfathomable in the middle of a game.
There was quite a bit of bother about it apparently It had something to do with people not being able to "play through", which I really didn't understand. Why couldn't they play through? Certainly the torrential rain outside wasn't stopping them, so how was me not being present on the green stopping them? Besides, I was hungry and wasn't interested in getting soaked. What's the point in having a club house with sandwiches and chips at the ninth hole if people aren't expected to take advantage of it?
This morning my manager asked me if I'd driven over any leafs on my way to work. I was a bit baffled by the question until he'd explained that Maple Leafs fans would be throwing themselves in front of cars this morning due to a terrible loss the previous evening.
Now, the Maple Leafs (which I now know are a hockey team) are so bad, that even I've heard of them.
I wonder if they could use an outfielder?
* Why not ask about music? Or science? "Hi there, nice to meet you. What sciences do you follow?"
** I use to think "Twelve Angry Men" was a comedy. It sounds like it should be one.
***Hey, how about that? I used a sporting colloquialism in the correct context!
When I was at school, I was always the last person to be picked for any team in PE class. My classmates would fight over who's turn it was to take on the person who would most likely secure their defeat in any match.
During baseball games, they'd place me in "outfield". The only thing I know about the outfield is that it's apparently the farthest place from any action and the place I'd do the least damage. They'd quite happily let me wander around out there for what seemed hours. Sometimes they'd make gestures that I was supposed to come in or something. I couldn't tell because I couldn't hear them or see them all that clearly. Eventually they'd give up motioning to me and the game would carry on. I always supposed that if it was that important, they'd send someone out to get me.
My Grandfather tried to get me involved in sports on a couple of occasions. He once asked me if I'd like to go and see the "jays" and the "tigers". I thought he meant the at the zoo.
A few years later in grade 8, our whole school was taken to the new SkyDome in Toronto to watch a game with the above mentioned "Jays" and "Tigers" (at least I knew they were baseball teams at that point). I tried to watch it, but really found it too dreadfully boring. I spent the rest of the afternoon reading Stephen Hawking's: "A Brief History of Time", and listening to Monty Python's Second Album on my Walkman.
***
I think it must be a North American "guy" thing to ask a person on meeting them for the first time what sports they follow.* I suppose with the vast amount of televised sporting events to choose from on this side of the Atlantic, that it's seen as a great equalizer, and something that everyone has some sort of opinion on.
I sure do. I hate sports.
I'm often asked by people I've recently met: "Did you see the game last night?"
Me: Uh, what game?
You'd think a response like that would be sufficient to end any further questioning along those lines, but it seems to prove no barrier whatsoever to a detailed recounting of the previous nights events, in which I politely (and poorly) feign interest. Most of the time I have absolutely no idea what sport they're even talking about.
To me, all sports seem to basically amount to the same thing. It's all about moving a ball (of varying sizes) from one end of a playing field to another using various methods or implements, with all sorts of arbitrary rules about what you can and can't do.
Well, what about hockey then, you may ask? It's a flattened ball.
Despite the fact that I'm very clearly not athletic, once people find out I don't watch any sports, they'll often pursue the line of inquiry as to what sports I play... which of course is none of them.
Sporty Person: You don't watch any sports.
Me: No.
Sporty Person: Well, what sports do you play?
Me: None of them.
Sporty Person: What about hockey?
Me: (Raised eyebrow) Really? Me?
Sporty Person: What about golf?
Golf is probably the most boring game involving a ball next to baseball. The general concept is to move the ball around 9 or 18 fields by whacking it repeatedly with various sizes of stick, depending on how much free time you have available. Occasionally there's a big pit of sand, pools of water, or roving gangs of angry old men** in terrible clothing to make the day that much more frustrating. The only thing more boring than playing golf is watching it, or listening to someone else's golfing stories (except for mine, of which I have two to relate).
When I was a 10, my grandfather (who was addicted to golfing), generously bought me my own set of golf sticks and took me out to the golf course to teach me how to play. We went to the driving range and he told me to whack the ball as far as I could. Eventually my stick connected with the ball and it went about three yards.
I was suitably impressed.
He wasn't. My grandfather and his friend told me to watch their technique and then spent the next three hours driving balls down the range. The only time they spoke to me was when they asked me to get them a couple of beers. At least they didn't ask me to retrieve all their balls. I threw in the towel after that***.
My next bout with golf was at a bachelor party for a friend of mine.
I was almost invited to leave the premises by the club owners... not because I had dug a sizable crater on the first tee (they hadn't discovered it at that point), or because I'd been driving the golf cart like a maniac, trying to get "air" going over the small hills, but because I wanted to take a lunch break, which was to them, unfathomable in the middle of a game.
There was quite a bit of bother about it apparently It had something to do with people not being able to "play through", which I really didn't understand. Why couldn't they play through? Certainly the torrential rain outside wasn't stopping them, so how was me not being present on the green stopping them? Besides, I was hungry and wasn't interested in getting soaked. What's the point in having a club house with sandwiches and chips at the ninth hole if people aren't expected to take advantage of it?
***
This morning my manager asked me if I'd driven over any leafs on my way to work. I was a bit baffled by the question until he'd explained that Maple Leafs fans would be throwing themselves in front of cars this morning due to a terrible loss the previous evening.
Now, the Maple Leafs (which I now know are a hockey team) are so bad, that even I've heard of them.
I wonder if they could use an outfielder?
* Why not ask about music? Or science? "Hi there, nice to meet you. What sciences do you follow?"
** I use to think "Twelve Angry Men" was a comedy. It sounds like it should be one.
***Hey, how about that? I used a sporting colloquialism in the correct context!
"I'm sorry, I don't follow sports. I hunt them down and use them for target practice" Said while miming shooting with a bow and arrow. That usually shuts them up due to such extream bafflement, or at least helps direct the conversation towards something more interesting. Adding in "After all, those sports are just simulated warfare, so might as well just skip the middle man"
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