The first hockey game I ever attended (Bruins), was quite a disappointment. Not because they lost, as my home team always loses when I attend the game in person, but because after the third period of the game everyone started to get out of their seats while I stayed in mine.
After all, there were four quarters and I was just starting to get into it. I asked my friend where they were all going and he began to laugh, “There are only three periods!”
“Three,” I yelled. “What happened to the fourth?”
As men and women, real hockey fans, walked by and heard my comment they began to scowl. The men looked upon me as if I were a dying dog and the women bowed their heads in pity. Who was this man who knew nothing of sports? How can he get by in life?
I wish I had time to explain how I know nothing about sports, even though as a young man I played about everything imaginable: baseball, basketball, hockey, fencing, track, soccer, wrestling, swimming, tennis, gymnastics and discus.
I believe it was this athletic overload and my lackadaisical attitude that allowed me to see the general unimportance in team comparison.
I am not against sports. They provide much needed exercise to people all over the world while they practice skills that cultivate teamwork and civility. Why is the amount of sport information men know socially equal to their manhood?
People never ask me what I know about current events, or about cars, or even about my lengthy travels. No, those things are not good enough. I always thought fixing a car was a masculine activity but, truly, it is equal to crocheting if sports are not also included in the curriculum.
My one saving grace is that I am also bad luck when it comes to sports. When I was younger and my parents would treat me to a sporting event, the team I was cheering for, as I said before, would always lose, always.
So, now my family excuses me, in fact encourages me, not to watch our favorite teams engage in sport.
Now I have a handy excuse that people graciously accept when they ask me about the local sports team which I know nothing about.
“Thank you for the sacrifice,” they say. “You are a true fan.”
“Don’t worry” I tell them as I scratch my genitals keeping my masculinity not only intact but rather enhanced.
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