This is an entry for the blogathong, which I heard about from Scary Scary Quite Contrary. I don't know many details about it other than people are expected to write a blog a day, Monday to Friday, for the next 3 days. I like that idea. I've been too lazy lately.
Send all complaint letters to firstname.lastname@example.org.
I wash myself with a loofah and yogurt scented body wash.
I pee sitting down.
I do have a penis, but that’s about the only thing that makes me a man; it’s not the first time I’ve qualified for something based on a technicality, I once won a Junior Miss Unwed Eskimo Teenage Mother beauty pageant because they forgot to put an age restriction on their contest entry form, I altered my birth certificate to say that my mother’s maiden name is Akluitok, and I packed the judges panel with broke meth addicts whom I then bribed with a degradation free way to get some free meth.
Still, I’m not a real man… but I do like sports.
Not all sports, mind you, but a good number of them.
The other day, I refereed my first soccer game in over a decade.
It’s been a long time since I blew a whistle, but, according to the people who were there with me, I didn’t do too bad a job of it.
Sure, I spent most of the game threatening the players’ wives with yellow and red cards if the refused to take off their clothes for me, but that added to everyone’s excitement.
If you’ve never officiated at a sporting event, it’s a great feeling; however, if you don’t know the rules of the particular sport over which you officiate, then you’re in for a world of trouble. I know plenty about soccer, so that’s fine, but you should have seen the fight that erupted when I worked the Southeast Manitoba Regional Curling championship.
As a child, I was never interested in sports. I played all the popular games, but I rarely sat down, without coercion and watched a sporting event.
It’s not that I didn’t like sports, I loved them, but watching people play sports, in this modern age of ours, is an activity that is either too expensive for regular entertainment, if one chooses to attend the games, or littered with advertisements for three things that children wouldn’t care about if you paid them: beer, financial services, and erectile dysfunction pills.
Now that I like to drink, have money to invest, and enjoy four hours of worry free erections, I not only watch sports, but I also realize how invaluable professional sport spectatorship can be to an anti-social curmudgeon.
While visiting my wife’s family in Florida, and without anything to occupy my time, I started reading everything I could about the current baseball season: scores, statistics, histories, trends, etc. Whenever anyone would talk to me, I would start spouting baseball nonsense until they eventually grew tired and left me alone. Ordinarily, I can get the same effect just talking about my normal interests, but I would much rather disinterest my Grandmother-in-law with baseballic lore than the nuts and bolts of setting up a three-point lighting system to adequately illuminate a double penetration scene.
Playing sports, or sporting, is preferable, but it’s hard to get a decent amount of people together to engage in complicated games like football and baseball; plus, you wouldn’t believe how quickly your friends get disinterested, and how high the scores go, when you try to play nine innings with just two people. The games degenerate into one or two pitches and then chasing after the ball and cursing while the batter gets an inside the park homerun.
It did teach me that I either need to make more friends so I could field a whole team, or befriend a morbidly obese, barely ambulatory quadriplegic.
Soccer is the best sport to play with a limited amount of people, or spectate with a limited amount of time; it’s over in 90 minutes and you only need two people and a ball to get a game going. In addition, if you live in a place where there are lots of migrant workers, you don’t actually have to have any friends because they will quickly join your game and demonstrate their Meso-American superiority. Even when I was in great shape, Forty-something Mexican men would out run, out dribble, out shoot, and out pass me to the point where I started eating corn tortillas, landscaping rich white people’s lawns, and playing Wednesday nights in a local mariachi band to see if that would improve my game.
At the end of the day, as much as I love any game, my heart belongs to American football, both to watch and to play. Perhaps it’s because there’s something indescribably beautiful about a game that allows so many closeted homosexuals to parade their alternate lifestyle choice in such a public fashion while being worshiped by the large majority of American homophobes; but, more likely, it’s because I was never allowed to play on the organized teams when I was a little boy and, as adults, we covet most what was denied us as children.
I like any sport, really, and I love to play them all, but only the ones that involve defense. I have no use for those sports where athletes perform one after another to determine who is better at a particular skill; I like the kind where you have to do all of that, and keep the other person from tackling you.
Anyone for jai alai? Afterwards, we can loofah each other down and talk about baseball.
Sex Mahoney for President
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