For the Chicks, Duh
January 7, 2008 by Geoff Young
Filed under Odds and Ends, Off-Topic
My editor, Kori, challenged each of us in the b5 sports channel to answer the question, “Why do you love sports?” It’s tougher than you think.
For me, sports is such a huge part of my identity that I have trouble stepping outside of it. Like, you might as well ask me why I have brown eyes.
But that’s a copout, so let’s see if I can come up with something more satisfying. Growing up, I played “organized” sports such as baseball, basketball, and soccer. I never quite got the hang of soccer, but it was just becoming popular in the late-’70s, so I ran around and tried to look busy.
I wasn’t real crazy about any of the sports I played. Baseball was okay, especially toward the end of my “playing career,” but what I really enjoyed was playing pick-up games: touch football, softball, and even stuff we would make up, like “strikeout.”
Strikeout goes by many different names, but basically it’s two-person baseball. One guy would pitch and the other would bat, standing in front of a wall. We used a real wood bat and a tennis ball. There was no running involved, and we just played until we got tired, which was great fun for me but not so much for my shoulder.
Anyway, I didn’t really catch the sports bug until I reached high school, when I started playing tennis. That sport really engaged me in a way that no other had before or since.
What got me about tennis was that it was just me and this other guy. You went in knowing your own strengths and weaknesses, and through the course of competition, you figured out what the other guy was trying to do. You had to think, but you also had to act. For me, that was the challenge. What is this person trying to do, and how do I keep him from accomplishing that? I didn’t think about it in those terms back then, but that’s what I was doing.
I’ve continued to play sports in my adult life, though not to the degree that I did when I was younger. Life gets in the way, and all that. But now I enjoy the cameraderie as much as anything. On the rare occasions when I play softball these days, it’s as much to hang out with friends as it is to engage in serious competition. Not that I don’t still compete, mind you, but the emphasis has shifted.
Most of my enjoyment of sports now comes as a spectator. It’s sort of passive, but if you are passionate, as I am about baseball, it can become pretty active. The joy for me in watching a ballgame comes from trying to figure out what everyone on the field is trying to do at any given moment, as well as from spending time with my wife and/or my friends.
I haven’t really thought about it much before, but I’m really in it now for the same reasons I was 20+ years ago. That and the chicks, of course.
But enough about me. Why do you love sports? Was there someone or something that got you hooked?
Funny, I was just thinking about this yesterday when I was wondering why I’m not into football as much as most. In my case it comes from my father, who was a huge Yankee fan. The love of baseball rubbed off but I could never quite bring myself to root for the Yankees.
And you’re right, there’s something inherently more competitive about one on one sports. It’s a test of your individual skills and your will to win, reading your opponent and reacting to him. In team sports you have a coach that figures out all that stuff.
That’s such a great description of tennis, and a great discussion of sports overall.
I really feel that tennis is such a thinking man’s sport, and that’s often overlooked. Perhaps it’s too cliche to say it’s a lot like chess, but you are often looking at least one shot ahead to plan your moves. So much of “winners” are the 2 or 3 shots before them, and not necessarily the execution on the smash.
As I have always said, anyone can play tennis, but only a few people can be good at it. It’s similar to golf in that respect, except that tennis is much more accessible and significantly less frustrating. If you get beat in tennis, you can always blame it on the other guy. If you shank a drive, you’ll have to start blaming yourself once all of your clubs are wrapped around tree trunks.