That is, until recently. I should preface this with the fact that I grew up a loyal and devoted Yankees baseball fan. I was a Yankee for Halloween (perhaps without a choice) at least three times. My family, namely my mother father and sister, haven't missed a game on tv in years. Curiously it's my sister Sara who's the most devoted (and loudest) fan of them all. So I've been watching the past couple games, if for no other reason than to try to understand how something so simple could draw so many people so many days for so many years. Last night's game housed 43,867 people. And after three games, I was hooked. It is truly exhilarating. There's something about watching these people, experts in their field, under the greatest amount of pressure possible, that makes your heart pump like nothing else. Watching sports makes you feel alive. If you let yourself.
I'm reminded of last year's Super Bowl, which I watched with my friend and fellow RSF blogger David. Neither of us cared about football. Neither of us cared about the Giants. I only knew the rules of the game from being in my high school marching band and half paying attention to every single high school game for four years. We were really only in it for the commercials. But when the Giants were behind, and that dude caught the football on his helmet, the two of us literally, without thinking, jumped onto the couch and shouted for about a minute. We went from not giving a shit, to being totally invigorated by a sport we wanted nothing to do with.
Now I'm certainly not going to start wearing shirts with team logos. I'm not going to refer to a team as if I belong to it, i.e. "my yankees". I will still make fun of the people that do. I'm not gonna fall in love with Coors Light and call people queers. But I don't know. I think I'm starting to see what all the fuss is about.