My Problem with Sports? Fans . . .

I take (and give) a lot of crap for my position on sports. Why I don't care for them. What is wrong with them. Why I would keep my daughter away from them based on my own biases. Etc.

I want to be very clear - my issue with sports is NOT about competition (I'm very competitive in certain situations). It is NOT about fitness (I wish, every day, I was a fit person). It is NOT about the garb (I own several Shocker sweatshirts). It is NOT about the concession stand (be serious). It is NOT about the pursuit of excellence on the part of the athlete or coach.  NOPE! My problem with sports is actually my problem with YOU, dear fans. Yep. This is YOUR fault (responsibility?).

Here's what I know about sports fans - you're fickle. You're demanding. You "we" speak entirely too much. You feel entitled. You are obsessive compulsive. You will scream and yell and CHILDREN - often your own. You will scream and yell in FRONT of children (almost always including your own). You will throw fits and, in extreme cases, punches. You will defend overzealous fans who are ejected from games for being anything but sportsmanlike and - in a "best" case scenario - when your team (or "you" (in the interest of we speak)) win the big game you will rush the playing surface often hurting people, destroying property, and generally behaving boorishly in the process.

I can't stress this enough - it is a GAME. It matters NAUGHT in this world. There is NO impact on your life. And if you argue there is . . . we need to talk about how you build your life, dear fans. And do not talk to me about gambling and the outcome there - if you gamble . . . I need another blog post. Must stay on target. I can even understand the argument that you left work early, you'll be brown bagging dinner, you have to then rush home and your kid's homework will be pinched, the other kids will have their homework pinched, bath time will be condensed, etc. etc. etc. That is an impact. That is a sacrifice. One. You. Chose. To. Make. You can't scream and yell at a bunch of kids playing a game because you chose to put them on the team. That's like yelling at Hamburger Helper because it tastes horrible when you cook it.

I always love living in Kansas this time of year. We've got three of the best Division I basketball teams in the country playing here in the Sunflower State year after year after year. Ever see those teams lose? How about in the last two weeks when two of the three teams have each lost three in a row. Sad state of affairs. "We" are looking horrible out there. "We" can't seem to get it together. "We" don't take our responsibility seriously.

Let's remember who "we" is . . . 15 young men (18 - 23 years old) who are almost all far from home, juggling a team, a coach, a (lightened and often hilariously weak) class schedule, roommates, girl/boyfriends, struggling with the pressures of being a student athlete  and trying to be competitive (on any given night) against a group of equally young, equally fail-able, equally conflicted players. You can't be consistent all the time. Every just crap the bed at work one day? Have a colleague that did? Yeah. Imagine now if 20,000 people were watching you work and cheering/booing based on how quickly you responded to that e-mail or how good your notes were for the staff meeting. And remember you're 36. Twice their age.

I think you get my point. Every time you scream, yell, pout, "we" speak or act like a buffoon YOU are why I hate sports. It is all your fault. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left-right, left-right-left. Left. Right. SITTTDOWN!