If you know me, you’re aware that despite having very limited athletic abilities of my own, I love to watch sports. Give me a decent football game, and I’ll likely be planted on my couch until the final concussion is doled out. This current season, I’ve been to 12 Blazers games, and I think the Rose Garden owes me at least one beer on the house. When I lived in San Francisco, I took the BART to the Coliseum to see the A’s, who are the red-headed step-children of Bay Area professional sports. And during the upcoming Olympic games in Vancouver, I’m DVR’ing the figure skating events, including ice dancing. I never said my sporting stories were cool.
To me, sports and music have a lot in common. At their best, both fields involve practitioners (in both areas, those people disproportionately tend to be men) performing seemingly effortless feats with their chosen instruments. When witnessed first-hand, each activity causes onlookers to scream and all but jump out of their skin in excitement. Heck, drugs are all over the place in both sports and music. Beyond these trite similarities, I bring up the comparison because I used to be one of those kids who believed one’s personality was tied to the worst stereotypes of that image. I assumed that anyone with an interest in professional sports might as well enjoy flinging feces when not dragging their knuckles across the ground. I also thought that since I listened to alternative music, I was worlds more artistic and free-spirited than the jocks in my class. You’re probably glad I wasn’t blogging at the time.
It’s good that time can change even the dimmest opinions. If it hadn’t, on Super Bowl Sunday, I wouldn’t have been present at a house full of warm foods, enough bottles of champagne and beer to send a frat party to the hospital, and friends from a wide array of careers, academic disciplines, and parts of the country. The mixing of such a variety of folks was helped considerably by the mostly unanimous roars of approval as the New Orleans Saints took off from a rocky first quarter to defeat the Indianapolis Colts. And when there was no game to watch – which was probably more than three quarters of the time the entire Super Bowl pageantry aired – we all joined forces to boo the commercials we disliked. Needless to say, it was a noisy and lovely place to be. Heed the advice of Los Campesinos! from their most recent album, Romance is Boring: “We agreed we couldn’t trust a guy that didn’t like a single sport.”
- Los Campesinos! ~ Romance Is Boring ~ Arts & Crafts