Game time

It seems to be a more common occurrence lately that sports is the topic of so many conversations I happen upon.  I can only attribute this to now being in an co-ed, 20+ number of people, in mid-Connecticut versus being in an all female, 3-person office on the edge of CT. 

Baseball season brought out the nasty in everyone.  When located in New England – but specifically, smack in the middle of Connecticut, you are either a die-hard Yankee fan or a die-hard Red Sox fan.  Or a die-hard, couldn’t-possibly-care-any-less-but-I-like-birds-so-I’ll-be-a-Baltimore-Orioles fan.  Up until my recent job change, I was in the minority – I am a Yankee fan.  However, now I find myself in the majority – very refreshing.  To be honest though, I really don’t care that much.  I love watching baseball – especially at the stadium – I enjoy my Derek Jeter; I enjoy a hot dog & beer while partaking in the spectator sport.  Other than that, I’m not that into it. 

That is just not the case with at least 50% of the people I work with.  I love them dearly, don’t get me wrong – but some of these sports fanatics can be crazy! 

All superstitions start running amuck!  ‘I wore these pants during the 3rd inning in July 1987 and they won, so I’m never not wearing these pants during a 3rd inning again or they’ll lose!’

Another favorite is the anger and depression that follows a loss or, on the flip side, the extreme elation following a win. ‘WE did it!’ ‘I can’t believe WE made that error.’  Um, hate to break it to you, but YOU had nothing to do with it.  It was that man spitting chew all over the field and grabbing himself instead of keeping his eye on the prize.  Just sayin’…

But I digress.

So now we are in football season.  With the exception of basketball, there is not another sport that can drive me in to a comatose state quicker than football.  All the grunting and tackling and going nowhere while running super fast only to be knocked on your ass….I don’t get it.  Whistles being blown, yellow flags in the air, and the time…oh, the time.  HOW is it that a game that is technically ONE hour long (4 quarters of 15 minutes…I know that much!) can be stretched out for 4 1/2 hours?  Just catch the stupid ball and run to the other end of the field, do your little dance and call it a day.  Stop running way over your allotted time and into my television shows! 

Where is this rant coming from?  Well, honestly I did get a bit out of control.  I was just thinking about how often I wander into someone’s office with a legit question about work and the person is in a deep, serious conversation and I think, “oh, don’t want to interrupt this,” only to hear “Eli Manning totally blew it when he missed that pass!  I couldn’t believe it.  He lost the game for us.”  (Don’t get me wrong, I spend plenty of time chatting about non-work-related topics, so I’m criticizing that part of the discussion.)

They say it’s a game for a reason.  Games are supposed to be fun.  Basically what I’m getting at is:  Lighten up!!  No one is saving lives here, people.  WE are going to be ok whether the Yankees whoop up on the Red Sox next year or vice versa.  I know I’m ok with it.  And I’m pretty sure the only one who should be kicking himself the day after a game is Eli. 

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~ by zuzu on December 17, 2007.

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