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A View From the Cheap Seats
By Dave Lind
There is a crisis facing us, my fellow sports fans, a crisis
which threatens to destroy the very fabric of a society which our
forefathers toiled for untold generations to forge.
Although, perhaps, "crisis" may be a bit strong of
a word. "Dilemma" might be more fitting. On the other
hand maybe "dilemma" could best be reserved for a more
weighty topic. I know, a "problem". We are faced with
a problem which threatens...
Now wait a minute. That still sounds a bit harsh. How about
an "concern"? Yes, a we are faced with a concern which
threatens to...
Oh, now that really sounds stupid. "A concern which
threatens to destroy the fabric of blah-blah-blah"? How can
a concern destroy the fabric of anything, let alone society?
The hell with it! When in doubt, rip off Andy Rooney.
You know what really bugs me? (This is where I tell you.)
Women who think they like sports.
Oh-oh. Looks like I've offended some of our female readers.
To Hell with you! Who needs you, anyway! You women are all
alike! First you gain a man's trust and then you rip his heart
out and turn your back on him li...
EDITOR'S NOTE: The editors of this column wish to apologize
to our female readers for Mr. Lind's current outburst. He's
currently working through some very painful divorce-related
issues as well as trying to cope with the recent news that his
mother, after rejecting him as a child, has continued to breast
feed his seven brothers (As well as three cousins, two
ex-husbands, his High School principal, and the cast from TV's "What's
Happening"). As a result, he's currently harboring some
feelings of resentment and animosity toward females in general.
We assure you that, when he is properly sedated, Mr. Lind is
actually quite tolerable and can even be entertaining to be
around. And while his opinions are certainly not those of
management (We LOVE women! Really we do!) we nonetheless feel an
obligation to provide this poor man with a therapeutic outlet for
his aggressions. Thank you for your understanding.
... en all I really ever wanted was to be loved! Is that so
wrong?
Anyway, sorry to go off like that, but the doctor said that
sometimes it's just best to let it all out.
Now where was I? Oh, yeah. Women and sports.
You see, I've known many women who cared greatly about a wide
variety of sports and could even talk a good game with the best
of the boys. These women would tune in faithfully each Sunday to
watch the games and record the outcomes for their office pools
and rejoice when their favorite team won. Yes, to all outward
appearances, these women would seem to be as true and blue as any
male sports fan.
But the truth is, I've never seen any woman do any of the
following:
- Call in sick to watch a pre-season game. (That was me.)
- Spend more time and energy trying to figure out who to draft
in the second round of a fantasy draft than, say, planning her
own wedding, (Me again)
- Choose football over her own spouse. (Jimmy Johnson.)
- Perform the "Chicken Dance" alone in a darkened
living room while trying to watch a scrambled Sharks telecast.
(My roommate.) (Honestly.)
- Videotape themselves not playing, but WATCHING a football
game. (Me again,with an assist from my friend, Dean.)
- Purposely schedule child-conception such that the birth will
not in any way interfere with the NFL playoffs. (Guilty again.)
- Riot. (British Soccer fans, regularly.)
- Beat up an Umpire for a bad call. (Dodger fan Frankie
Germano, 1961.)
- Take the sports page into the bathroom. (Me and every guy
I've ever known.) (No, not at the same time!)
- Make a solemn vow to God Almighty to devote their spare time
to helping the needy if their team could just PLEASE make the
playoffs this year. (Again, Me. Except my team is the Raiders,
the year was 1995, and my spare time is still my own, thank you
very much.)
My point is, even though women may enjoy WATCHING sports, men
LIVE sports. We breathe sports. We worship sports. Hell, men
ARE sports! Just as no man can ever truly understand the pain of
childbirth, likewise can no woman ever fully appreciate the pain
of having to face your co-workers on Monday morning after their
team has humiliated yours 55-6. To a woman, it's a shame but
hey, it's only a game and we'll get them next year. To a man,
their team has beaten your team and now owns them, and therefore
THEY own YOU, for the next 365 days. The pecking order has been
established, and you are one rung lower on the ladder.
To be fair, it's not really their fault. It's the way their
brains work. They just don't process information the same way we
do. Take the following exchange between a female friend of mine
and myself during the Olympic Boxing finals this summer.
SHE: I just don't GET boxing.
ME: What's not to get?
SHE: It's just two guys trying to knock each other out.
ME: You see, you DO get boxing!
SHE: Huh?
You see, her female mind simply could not grasp that two
persons could interact on such a base level. To her, unless
there was some sort of sharing going on, some sort of exchange of
perspectives that helped deepen each other's understanding of
each other and, thence, themselves, it was all pointless. She
was fundamentally incapable of accepting the notion that two men
would climb into a ring and beat each other bloody and senseless
for no other reason than to see who would win.
A man, on the other band, has no such problem. Why do we
climb mountains? Because they are there! Why do we pee on
trees? Because we can! Why do we beat each other up? Because
we like to! That's it. Nothing more complex or esoteric than
that.
So the next time you see that female "Sports Fan"
in your life perched in YOUR spot in front of the TV, remember
that she is busy picking up on the subtle exchange of feelings
between the opposing sides and reveling in the complex
relationships being forged between teammates and opponents alike,
not just sitting and blankly absorbing the carnage before her as
she should. Reflect on this as I do and see if you can resist
the urge to whack her with a rolled-up newspaper.
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