I am not a sports fan. I could care less about who wins what, who’s playing who, who got traded to whatever team. I do have a few opinions about athletes…but it’s probably best to just keep those to myself.
Okay, I do admit that I am fond of my alma mater, the Oregon Ducks, but my sports-affiliated allegiance ends there.
My husband, thankfully, shares my indifference to sports. This means I am not subject to Sunday afternoon/Monday night/Thanksgiving Day marathons of misery. (Now that’s something I can cheer for!) I have noticed something about him, though, which I find interesting. He does not enjoy watching sports…but if he is forced to in the few times I put on an Oregon game, for example, he gets more into it than I do. I want to know who won…that’s all I really care about. But he comes out with these explanations of incredulity that surprise me every time he utters them. “Oh!” “Uff!” “AHHHH!” I have been “watching” the exact same game (while reading a book, doing the dishes, or surfing the web) but he has been sucked in, whereas I have no idea what just happened because I’m only interested in the final results.
It was interesting, I must admit, the two times that our separate alma maters played each other in the Fiesta Bowl a few years back. The first year Oregon won…the second year Minnesota won. He called it justice. I called it a bummer.
Anyway, this sports-deficit in my character came to light lately as I found myself washing my son’s gym bag.
This, according to some definitions, is an antique bag. Spring term of my freshman year in high school, I received it through my school as a reward for having good grades. It is a blue and yellow Seattle Mariners bag, though I don’t think my son has ever been ridiculed for having a Mariners bag in this land of the Minnesota Twins because the writing is all worn off. 29 years does that to a free, nylon bag.
I think I also received a free ticket to a Mariners game, but I can’t remember if the one Mariners game I did attend was then or a few years later. All I know is that I went once, to a game in the now-destroyed Kingdome, and that Seattle lost to Boston. I could have cared less.
I do remember, however, thinking, “Why the heck did I get a free sports bag just because I got good grades?” This was the beginning of the era of “everybody wins”. It was also when some of my friends began being rewarded with five dollars (or whatever) from their parents for every “A” on their report card…as opposed to the expectations from my parents which was that I do well because God gave me a good brain and I ought to use it.
This, by the way, is the same incentive we use with our kids.
As I threw that old Mariners bag into the wash, I wondered, vaguely, if it would come out okay or if I was dooming it to the garbage can.
And yes, I cared a lot more about that than whether or not the Twins/Mariners/anyone-on-God’s-green-earth win the pennant this spring.
I mean, this is a useful bag!
I’d hate to actually have to pay for a new one to replace it.
Making the mundane entertaining.
