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obligatorily misanthropic, oblique world cup post

with 3 comments

Interesting, special disaffinity for watching sports with other people, listening to people talk about sports, having people in my living room while I am trying to watch sports, and so on. Not sure what it is. Best guess is that in my line of work you don’t often meet people who, like me, devoted (were made to devote?) approximately 90 percent of their mental and psychological life to a game for that extended period of time that is often called childhood.

Especially don’t like people who, while watching sports in my living room, make snarky comments about the size of my television and the grandeur of my satellite television package. Ah academia. When I first got to Ivy League PhD Institution, the first set of friends that we had covered their television with a table cloth when people were over. Not in Cardinal, Ontario or Memphis, Tennessee anymore, we kiddies realized! Said tablecloth didn’t apparently stop them from coming over to my place to watch Wimbledon (wtf?) on my cable when tennis was in the summer air.

The total count of people with whom I don’t mind watching sports totals three: my wife (she’s been well trained in the art, we used to hold partial bleacher season tickets at Yankee Stadium mind you, and by the end had moved up into the insanity of the front rows…), my father, and as it turned out during the volcano, SEK.

Story. When my wife and I were first together, back in, yep, high school, she came to a game that I pitched against one of the Oranges. Can’t remember which one it was, though pretty sure it wasn’t West Orange. Sat in the stands with my father. (Looking back, wow, way to take one for the team, dearest…) I took a no-hitter through six (high school games were only seven innings long), fucking them up with sliders, until some kid plinked a single off of me with one out in the seventh. Shit. I would have made the Daily Record, or even the vaunted Ledger, the next day if I’d pulled it off.

Anyway, I was afterward supra-surly and, really, cussish when I got off the field. She didn’t understand at the moment, but I think in the long run (how long-term couples work, I suppose) this moment earned me a lifetime of overloud and vaguely Nova Scotian Goddammits while watching things on TV. That’s mostly the sort of talking that I do, and prefer to do, while I watch this stuff rather than discussing the reasons and costs behind my blinged out, sorta white trash media center in the center of the most used room in the house. Which I have because, unlike the rest of the freeloaders, yes, I admit that I like to watch vast quantities of sports on the weekends, feel deprived if I cannot watch them because of subscription issues, and as of lately, yep, like to watch them in HD.

Written by adswithoutproducts

June 28, 2010 at 1:28 am

Posted in academia, sports

3 Responses

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  1. The satellite package has to go as well. 2010 austerity sucks!

    I always prefer to watch sports alone too. People have an annoying habit of “talking about the game” instead of actually, y’know, watching it. They just don’t understand how sacred the thing is.

    davidaa

    June 28, 2010 at 2:31 am

  2. alright, I get it. No more invitations to Gourmet Super Bowl.

    pollian

    June 29, 2010 at 2:24 pm

  3. Guess how far behind I am in Google Reader? Can you?

    Anyhow, I’ve carried on conversations with you in my head while watching the World Cup. Wait, that sounds weird. I mean, I’ve thought about what we talked about while watching games over there while I watched the World Cup: the future of the literary journal and what-not.

    SEK

    July 12, 2010 at 2:23 am


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