I don’t like sports.
Yup, it’s true. I don’t like watching them, I don’t like playing them. I did have a stint on the volleyball team in Jr. High. I was a really big girl in Jr. High, pretty much the same size I am now (But ten lbs heavier). My mom hired the volleyball coach to be my personal trainer, so I think she put me on the team so I would have to run regularly. She would do spot checks of my food tray during the middle of lunch. It was pretty embarrassing. Like Jr. High was not hellish enough on it’s own merit.
I actually liked playing volley ball until my nose got severely broken by someone’s elbow connecting with my face as they spiked the ball over the net. After the accident I was deathly afraid of the ball and other players, but I still liked playing. Unfortunately I was also about the suckiest volleyball player of all time. You cannot be as dorkishly uncoordinated as I am and have any sports talent in your body at all. Thus, my sports career was pretty damn short.
One of the requirements I had in a mate is that they do not regularly watch sports. Jonathan said he wasn’t into sports when we were dating. About 7 years ago I guess he heard the “Call of the male” or something and began faithfully watching The Utah Jazz during basketball season.
[Arg. Grumble. Pout. Moan. Spew.]
At least he isn’t a sports-viewing addict. You know…The guys that start watching inter mural badminton and competitive table tennis when they’ve watched all the other sports.
I don’t mind watching a game or two during the season and I actually enjoy going to the occasional Jazz game in Salt Lake. It usually means that I can see my sister, Linny and Sis-in-law, Nooncy beforehand, so it’s good. Plus, the atmosphere of a live game is pretty fun. The problem with me observing sports (Besides the fact that I don’t, you know, LIKE THEM) is that if I care at all about who wins, I turn into a nervous wreck. Seriously, if it is an important enough game, the stress makes my tummy hurt.
It is why I have a tiny hope that my children want to do other non-sport things in school. Because if they really want to play, I will let them.
I will be the mom in the bleachers desperately trying to quietly observe and turning into a sweating, anxiety-ridden wreckage, instead. And that is just at a “Pee Wee” level. Trying to imagine a scenario in my head where my children participate at a high school or college level usually ends with me in acute need to vomit and tripping over bleachers, screaming fans and the school mascot in an attempt to flee the gymnasium and find a ladies room. If it’s a REALLY IMPORTANT game, this fantasy-scenario may also include me shrieking, “I’m melting! I’m melting!” and accidentally setting aforementioned mascot on fire before vomiting on the head coach because I couldn’t find a ladies room.
SEE? It is not pretty, my friends. No, not at all. What the freak was I talking about again?
Oh, the Jazz.
For the first time since 1998, The Utah Jazz will be heading to the Western Conference Finals. Jon is really happy about this. It has been a really long season for us because it takes up so many evenings, but it’s been ok. I usually find other things to do and start watching in the middle of the 3rd quarter so as to not stress out too much.
I’m glad and fairly surprised that they have done so well as a team this year. This last round they played Golden State and my COW, talk about violence. The end of tonights game reminded me of watching Jello-wrestling with tall hairy guys that have some MAJOR attitudes and anger management “Issues”. Flagrant fouls left and right happened time and time again. Jonathan was rather incensed about it. Am I a terrible person that I found it rather entertaining??? Yah, I thought so. You’re talking to a girl that was fond of screaming “Red Ice!!!” at hockey games, so I am not surprised at the inner blackness of my soul.
In the end?
Jon is happy.
I’m ok with it.
Yay, for the Jazz.
Oh, and to Don Nelson (Head coach of The Golden State Warriors)? Phil Donahue called. He wants his hair back.