Why Sports Matter

The feel good story of the year: Greenmonsters, Inc.

I'm a Philly sports fan, born and raised. In my lifetime, the Fightins' took the pennant in '80, the Sixers in '83, and then this sentence comes to a screeching halt. I don't remember either one since, well, it was so long ago I have a better shot of remembering climbing into a laundry hamper for Hide-and-Seek only to have my sister shirk her seeking duties and take a nap. I grew up in one of the three most tortured sports cities in the country, the others being Boston and Cleveland. I've yet to have had the option to blow off school or work for a parade downtown. But I frequently have the option of living in agony after any given NFC Championship, Eastern Conference Finals, or September pennant race. Worst option ever.

Because of my role in the sports fan universe, I have to live vicariously through my bretheren in defeat, the sports fan in Boston, Mass.

Game 7.

I was watching the news this morning, (read: Cold Pizza) and they had sent their Boston native intern to Faneuil Hall to join in the revelry and report on the biggest comeback in the history of baseball. InternDude got a hold of a Southie who was clenching a baseball with an iron grip. Southie explained that he had picked up the ball two strikes before David Ortiz (the guy who ate Kenny Lofton) jacked a 12th inning pitch in Game 4 stave off elimination and the 2004 implementation of The Curse. Southie hasn't put the ball down since.

He's gone to work for three days, eaten every meal, showered every morning, and even slept an hour or two each night without letting go of that ball. Pennant Fever got to this guy so much that he believed driving with one hand in order to hang on had a greater impact on the ALCS than any swing A-Rod, Matsui, or Sheffield could have taken. That's intense.

Human nature thrives on competition, it's simply a part of our being. All men were created equal, and it is free will that makes the Ego think that he can be better off than the next guy. (Ig, on the other hand, would like to forget competition and hit Tim McCarver in the mouth with one of those Whack-a-Mole hammers.) As a result, people need to seek out modules of society that can channel the want to achieve more than thy neighbor. Enter sports.

People can be passionate about just about anything. But what heightens passion to a fanatical level, more times than not, is the drive for competition. You can become a food critic (Lord knows my coworker is), and be passionate about the taste of culinary art. You can be a movie buff, and live for the screentime that two great actors finally share. You can be a music enthusiast, and feel the soaring melodies of dueling guitars in your veins. Art, cars, literature, whatever. No matter what the topic, you can live your life with passion.

What most passions lack is this infusion of competition. Most of what I have mentioned are personal interests. They can make you feel alive inwardly, and can take to a competitive forum if someone challenges with a counter opinion. With sports, there is always a counter opinion. The whole idea behind sports is the pitting of two opponents against one another for one common outcome:

Victory.

You watch sports, and you take a side, no matter how far removed from conventional reasons your rationale might be. Maybe you like the uniforms. Maybe you've got relatives in the home team's state. Maybe Pokey Reese sounds funny to you. Whatever the reason, you've got an opinion. So does everybody else.

Once a person picks a side, an attachment forms. You follow the team through the year, even if that means staying up late to watch their west coast games. You buy a hat or a jersey or a bumper sticker, so that everyone else knows where your allegiance lies. You read the local paper for any and every insight they can muster. You believe in curses, and that there's something you can do to help your team defeat the other team, 86 years of history, and make it to the World Series.

Good job, Southie. Way to hang on to that ball.