I stand amazed at the level of fervency accorded to some sports stories these days. Pro basketball player Lebron James’ decision to leave Cleveland for Miami rated live, prime time coverage on ESPN. He wants to join two other hoops stars so they can establish a dynasty and gain championship rings, so I read in the paper — not to mention making obscene amounts of money along the way.
The thing that amazes me so much is that so many people care, and they care so much, about professional sports.
My DNA must be missing the “sports fan” gene. I have a modicum of interest in professional golf and NASCAR (how’s that for two ends of the spectrum?), but that’s about it.
Who won this year’s NBA championship? Is it over yet? I don’t know.
Who played in the most recent Super Bowl? I have no idea.
Who are the current World Series champions? Don’t ask me.
Who holds the Stanley Cup this year? I haven’t a clue.
When I glance over the sports pages, see TV news folk reporting from sports bars filled with jubilant fans, or just listen in on conversations around me, I sometimes wonder if I’m the only one who lacks one iota of interest in who won at Wimbledon or which hockey player has been traded to whom.
On the other hand, I’m sure most sports fans can’t imagine why I’m fascinated by the discovery of new tombs in Egypt or the recent translation and performance of musical cuneiform texts from Ugarit.
I guess it’s a good thing that God didn’t make us with cookie cutters, but gave us a wide variety of interests and abilities. I’ll happily occupy my dusty niche, and leave the sports fanaticism to others.