The Disinterest in Sports

There was a moment back in the fall of 1995 when on a Saturday I brought a radio with me as I went with my father to Marlborough High School in Los Angeles to help him work on the sets for a play he was hired to construct.  It was early, and I was perturbed.  I was getting paid, and I was in the play as well, but my day was ruined because I could not watch the Notre Dame Football Game that Saturday afternoon on NBC.  Marlborough High School was a beautiful secluded all-girls preparatory school located deep within the elegant homes on the Beverly Hills and Melrose border.  A sister school of all-boys Loyal High School and filled with million dollar dreams and wonderful opportunities.  It was as graceful as it was exclusive, and my dad booked a job here as the set designer.  When visiting I felt like I was on the set of 90210. 

But the opportunity to work for $20 an hour, under the table mind you, was lost upon me.  It was October 28^th.  It was the Holy War against Boston College and I was reduced to listening to it on the radio.  So I listened to it as I worked; and as the game got more intense, my interest from painting the set to the description of the scene on a 3^rd and 10 in the 3^rd quarter became the important details.  Did I mention I was getting paid?  I was jumping up and down, focusing more on Marc Edwards rushing prowess and the loss of quarterback Ron Powlus than on the job at hand.  Another worker and friend of my dad mentioned “that there will be a time in your life when you will find other things matter more than sports.”

My goodness, that moment happened as the pandemic hit and is slowly ending.  As sports have rolled out more and more over the past year, my interest has waned.  It’s not as though I don’t watch them, but I do not consume them and additional sports programming as I did prior to the moment of forced reflection and regeneration.  There are a few reasons why this change has happened spanning from access, interest, over-indulgence, and growth.  But the adjustment made from rabid fan who used to slam doors and throw remotes to the man who realizes he has no control over the outcome was a long necessary change that actually has resulted in creating a more enjoyable viewing experience when I do consume athletic events on TV.

The love of sports, both playing and watching, had been ingrained in my head, ironically, by my father.  Did I think that his fascination and desire of athletics would backfire on him as he was on a deadline?  Probably not, but that was the situation he was in.  Sports was something I consumed, and as more and more media covered it, I embraced and was mesmerized by the statistics, data and coverage.  I had magazines, collected trading cards and had numerous posters and athletic iconography across my room.  I even drew team’s logos and had them on my wall.  My room was littered with sports memorabilia, jerseys and trophies.  And the three biggest representatives were the Los Angeles Lakers, the New York Yankees, and Notre Dame Football.  They all have roots in my family.  My grandmother was the Laker fan, and my dad was the Italian-Catholic boy from Jersey who shared his love for the Yankees and Notre Dame Football. 

Notre Dame Football had that extra special place in my heart.  I am not sure how the fascination came about.  Maybe it was the golden helmets, or the fight song, or the mystique of the golden dome.  I went to Notre Dame High School and watched both my high school’s games and the university’s game with nervous finger nail biting.  I didn’t play football, I was a water polo and baseball guy, but there is something about Notre Dame Football.  The magic and pageantry of seeing the gold helmets shine under the lights or the shining Saturday sun.  I had religion for 3 consecutive days in the fall: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.  The only difference was that I felt that I was the chaplain on Friday and Saturday, and it allowed me to act accordingly; even if that meant cursing, and reverting to the actions of a 4-year-old.  And my consumption of sports was going to fuel my career.  I was going to be a sportswriter.  I was going to play baseball for as long as I could, then I was going to write about it and talk about it professionally.  That was it.  It was about sports, they were greater than life because they were what I knew and they allowed me to express what I felt was important.  But my passion for it has gone, almost as the way of the dodo. 

Something has changed now.  I am not sure if it is the rabid nature of fandom that has continued to grow, or is more pervasive because of the many forms of media and social media platforms, or if it has become a realization that I am just cheering for laundry, but whatever it is, my interest has spiraled downward.  It is not that I don’t enjoy watching, or discussing them, but I do not plan my days around games that are played, pre and post-game analysis and reading thousands of articles or listening to podcasts for the latest tips and tidbits.  If I have the time, I will watch a game I am interested in, especially if it is a Notre Dame Football Game, but I have excused myself from the need to watch and dive myself into the pool of desolation that is constant athletic overload.  What once was a planned life or schedule driven world that dictated daily and weekend plans, including trips or some major events, now seems trivial and mundane.  The mandated break that was pressed upon us for a short time in 2020 until baseball and basketball returned fueled other avenues of interest and a reminder that more things matter than wasting away a day watching grown men, or women, sweat out their frustrations for my pleasure. 

I was forced to step back and fully embrace that I did not have any control over the outcome of the contest.  My association with the joys of a homerun or touchdown mattered very little within the bigger picture.  They had no idea who I was rooting for, and to be honest, the athletes concern over the outcome of the game is much lower than the average fan.  Fans burn jerseys, deface property, tear down signs and engage in spirited banter win or lose.  The athlete goes and eats dinner.  I am not correlating this with indifference on the athlete’s part and that they don’t care, but life goes on, and the fact that outcomes of games dictate how people choose to live their lives for the next 7 days, or a month or a year really reflects more on the values of the individual than actions of the athlete.  This becomes more prevalent when stakes are higher.  For example, when the three individuals on the England National Soccer Team missed their respective penalty kicks in the Euro Cup Final against Italy, “fans” vilified them any chance they could get.  So much so that they defaced a mural of one of the players, and within our current social climate, the fact that the players were black only enhanced the vitriol spewed from angry fans who can’t separate themselves from the action within the contest. 

Maybe in the end it comes down to age and experience.  I was a vibrant youth who shared his emotions, both positive and negative, towards a player or a team to anyone next to me who was willing, or unwilling, to listen.  My sports fanaticism became a sore subject in early relationships in which it controlled what I was going to do, no matter what, to watch a game.  It set the tone for what mattered, or what I felt mattered, in my life for a good period of time.  And although now, I will make time to enjoy a contest if it fits into a schedule, I make sure it does not mark as the end-all be-all for the day.  It only took over 30 years, so yay, growth.  Think about it.  There are accounts when family members get angry with each other if a wedding or big event is scheduled on a weekend in the fall.  People have re-arranged life events to watch a game.  If you listen to talk radio, you will undoubtedly here a caller ask the host if it is ok to miss a wedding or even the birth of a child to head to an “once-in-a-lifetime” contest.  Hello, for most, the birth of a child is that event. 

I enjoy sports, I really do.  But I just like them now, and they exist in the reality in which I have created, but I have also accepted that my reality should not be consumed and dictated by the athletic endeavors and achievements of millionaires and networks.  For all that I have experienced in the past 2 and a half years, one of my greatest realizations is that I need to enjoy sports, but the need to consume them only puts you in a box of simplemindedness.  It limited my conversation and circle of friends.  It disallowed me to grow as an adult and as a human.  It controlled my relationships and communication.  It diverted my evolution as a husband and a professional.  It clouded my ego and my purpose.  One of the most satisfying moments was the ability to turn off a game and not care about the outcome.  I managed to do that this past year, and it has been a welcomed change.  I have clarity and a weight off of my shoulders because sports and any tangible references or connections do not have a say in my life.  I have cut the emotional cord to the satiable appetite of athletic contents.  I do not have to live vicariously through them to appear superior or important.  I have evolved, and I am better for it.  Now, what time do the Yankees play tonight???