One thing needs to be known at the beginning of this post. I'm a huge sports fan. Huge. I check major sports websites multiple times per day. I read virtually every relevant story produced by major newsoutlets on sports I follow. I will watch SportsCenter and sit through commentary on basically any sport. I'll even watch an entire episode of Around the Horn. Point is, I love sports. I don't know why, and honestly, I'd probably be a much better educated and skillful person if I rededicated that time to more useful pursuits, but it's unavoidable. I'm hard-wired.
Which brings me to the limitations of space and time. There are only 24 hours in a day, and really, only so much time I can devote to following sports. My sports-following section of my brain may be enlarged and overactive, however, it is not omnipotent, and I really can only follow so many sports at once. This explains why I have zero interest in hockey. I can appreciate a great play and will always watch the highlights on SportsCenter, but I can't name too many players other than Crosby and Ovechkin. Even with my Bruins in first place of the Eastern Conference, I really could not be bothered. Other qualifiers for this category of complete disinterest include NASCAR, Cricket and Timber Sports.
I then have my category of "Lazy Day" sports. In essence, I don't know anything about these sports other than the names of their major personalities and events, and will really only end up watching them if I'm casually flipping channels and stumble upon it. Sports here include Formula One Racing, Rugby and Women's Beach Volleyball.
Golf and Tennis get their own category. I really enjoy both sports, and follow all the majors (and in golf's case, other tournaments with big-name headliners), but I really wouldn't qualify as an intense fan. I'd say a casual observer.
Now we are onto the big area: Sports I Actually Follow. This group has had a long history of promotion and relegation. From the age of 3, my parents have pushed both basketball and soccer on me (depending on the parent). As the son of an Irish immigrant, I followed the English Premier League just as much as I followed the NBA, and I lived in Roy Keane jersey growing up (on the days I wasn't wearing my Scholes and Schmichael gear). However, I didn't live in a particularly ethnic area, and by that I mean, no one knew anything about soccer. You can only be the lonely schoolboy watching soccer for so long, and my focus shifted towards the genuinely American sports of football and baseball. I became a rapid fan of the Patriots and Red Sox, and went through a hiatus of soccer fandom from about the ages of 10 until 17. The World Cup was back on, and Poeltl and I started our new favorite game of watching YouTube soccer clips for hours on end. I dived in headfirst, becoming absorbed with all things soccer, and seeing an entirely new generation of teams and players than the ones I had left years before.
This post is not about me rediscovering soccer fandom however. You guys are obviously aware of this given how I spend my freetime writing long-winded entries like this one. The impetus for this post actually comes from a barber shop of all places. Yesterday afternoon, I decided to trim the mop that had sprung from my head, and went to an old-style barber shop in town. It's the kind of place with a straigh-razor shave and stench of barbicide that blasts you the moment you walk in the door. While you're waiting to get your cut, they have a stack of Sports Illustrated for you to thumb through. Pleasantly surprised that the issue I picked up was actually the current issue (not some ancient issue with a cover story "Manning or Rivers: Who Should Go First?") and thumbed through their NFL preview (or I guess, training camp review). Disinterestedly going through page after page, I read some things of interest and skip the ones that don't, just like everyone else. I finally discover, after ten grueling minutes, I'm done. I had read maybe a page and a half of actual information, and had just flipped through the entire magazine. I read a preview of USA-Mexico, and then an editorial about how we unfairly demonized Bonds, considering how it appears everyone was doping.
I went through the magazine again, and stopped for a moment on an interview with Steve Slaton. I've heard the name before, and was aware that he had a great rookie year for the Texans last season. I didn't know much else about him because, well, he plays for the Texans. The interview was a light human-interest type story with a slight fantasy bent, the type of stuff I used to lap up in earlier years. Perhaps my lost hours playing Madden contributed, but there was a time when I could name most starters on most NFL teams. And, without a doubt, name every player of decent ability on every team. So here I was, facing my own new-found ignorance on a pocket of American football, and I flipped the page. I had stopped caring.
To be honest, I can't name a single draft pick by my beloved New England Patriots. During our senior year of high school, I remember watching the whole first day of the draft at Colin's house, sleeping over and then watching the whole SECOND day of draft coverage. Very few players of worth are ever draft in those 5 rounds, and even if they are, you won't know for a few years. Maybe it's because Super Bowl XLII absolutely ripped every Patriots Fan's soul out, which is, without a doubt, the most horrific sporting memory of my lifetime (football is more my cup of tea than baseball, so it beats out the Boone home run). But, it isn't just football. Baseball is fading further into the rear view mirror. I can't tell you how many games are between us and the Yankees in a moment's notice, and I can't remember the last time I watched a baseball game on my own. I still love both sports-I'm going to a Red Sox game next week-but I can't seem to follow them with the same fervor as in years past. Football (the European kind) has taken over, and the only sport inpenetrable to its influence is my other true love, basketball. I can't chalk up my decaying fandom to newfound maturity, as I'm still procrastinating with sports as much as ever (needless to say, I'm writing this at my internship). I just never anticipated one sports fandom cannibalizing almost all others.
Basketball season is over, so I don't watch ESPN. As in, ever. Maybe there will be a soccer match on, and there's my exception. I would watch the same SportsCenter three times in a day and not be fazed; now I can't sit through 10 minutes. This post is in no way meant to be melancholy, merely observatory. After all, if it made me sad, I could very easily start following both sports again. But, chances are, I won't. I'll still watch Patriots games when they are on, I'll watch the SuperBowl and probably most of the playoffs. I'll watch most of the Red Sox playoff games, if they make it that far. I'm not abandoning them. But, if we lose, if things don't go our way, something tells me my normal pattern of destroying inanimate objects and absolute rage will probably not follow. There will be pangs of disappoint, but they'll be as fleeting as hopes for Newcastle's promotion. I'll just flip the channel over to some rerun of CSI: Miami and enjoy the slick, campy and absolutely ridiculous carnage (probably the greatest bad show to ever air). But now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see if there's any transfer news.
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