I want to talk about sports. And how much people love to hate them. Here’s the thing — when people vehemently claim hate for any thing — any thing — it makes me question them. Their openness. Their attitude. Hatred is hatred. It’s both a shield and a weapon. It’s cowardice.
In a world where hatred is so unifying, I ask if we can’t focus on the good of sports.
We high-five in common hatred, we commiserate, we complain. Why not have an outlet in which to celebrate? Sensical or not, the love of the game unifies more unlikely people in one two-to-three hour timeframe than almost any other act. That’s a bad thing?
The spectators are bound by common desire. We want this team to win. We want those humans down there to score more than the humans wearing foreign uniforms. It’s simple. So simple. Barbaric? No. It’s beautiful. It’s allllmost like being in church. Surrounding yourself with members of society that are all seeking (roughly) the same thing.
The games give us victory every 10 seconds. Tiny victories (the 250-lb defensive lineman that just ran into the end zone) and big ones. The body beating the mind, which is always impressive and astounding. It’s dedication paying off.
Ultimately, it’s humanity on a playing field. It’s just another setting for what we’re all doing every day, anyway. It’s tens of beating hearts, coupled with racing pulses, that live for points instead of some other marker of ‘success.’