Tag Archives: Sports

I love playing sports

I wasn’t good at sports until I was like twenty-five years old. It’s like, once I got past high-school, out of college, on my own for a few years, once I was at the point where I’d really never find myself in a setting to play sports, I got good at them. And when I say good, I’m speaking relatively. I’m sure if you talked to my friends or family members, they’d say I still suck at sports. But I’m much better than I was when I was younger.

From an early age, I always sucked at sports. Like most little kids in suburbia, my parents signed me up for everything, t-ball, baseball, soccer, basketball. I was terrible at everything. I remember specifically this one baseball game – I must have been pretty little still because it was the type of baseball where somebody’s dad did all of the pitching – and my dad was like, “Robbie, if you get a hit today I’ll take you to the comic book store.”

Jesus Christ I wanted to go to the comic book store. Superman had just died and, not being in a socioeconomic position to go out and buy these books every week by myself, I kind of just had to rely on listening to other people talk about it. And there was no Internet and allo of my friends were in the same boat, so nobody knew what they were talking, everybody making up lies about Superman. Please just get a hit. All I have to do it just touch the bat to the ball and it’s comic book time.

I remember not hitting the ball. Maybe there was a foul, but it didn’t count. And I remember my dad taking me anyway, even though I didn’t really come through on my end of the deal. Baseball was tough. Not only because I sucked at sports, but because baseball is so long. Like I like watching baseball, on TV, because there’s plenty of room for snack breaks and video game breaks.

But playing a whole game of baseball? Nine innings? And they always stuck me way in the outfield. So it’s just me, standing there. The chances of another little kid actually hitting a baseball hard enough to make it to where I was standing were infinitesimal. But laying down on the grass yelled at. “Stand up! Pay attention to what’s going on!”

I actually didn’t have that much time to lie down. There were always like one or two dragonflies way out there in the outfield. I mean, yeah, dragonflies don’t do anything, but they’re big, and noisy, and they go about their lives as if human beings don’t exist. Like they don’t make any conscious effort to avoid you. They might come buzzing an inch from your face. That’s pretty nerve wracking. My palms are actually getting sweaty just thinking about it. So yeah, outfield was really this whole stretch of time just trying to avoid these stupid bugs.

And then soccer. I only played one season. It was pretty uncharacteristic of my parents to let me abandon something after only one season, but I sucked at soccer so bad that they had to make an exception to their sports policies. My coach’s name was Ben Dash. His son’s name was Ben Dash. What is it about parents having to coach their own kids? Isn’t there an inherent conflict of interest? Yeah, but I guess it’s a little weirder if you recruit adults with no connection to the kids at all. Still.

One game stands out in my head especially. After being allotted the bare minimum of playing time all season, Coach Dash screams out during one of our games, “G___, in!” I couldn’t believe it. Showtime. I run out onto the field and immediately intercept the ball. Holy shit, I couldn’t believe this was finally happening for me. I hear screaming. Everything’s getting blurry. All of the blood is rushing to my head in excitement. No time to sit down and tremble, I have to keep moving.

Other kids coming at me. I’m dodging them. I’m doing it. There’s the net. Shoot! Blocked, right into the goalie’s hands. “G___, out!” What the hell? I just shot on net. Wait a second, why is everybody laughing? It turned out that I shot on my own goal. All of those kids I dodged? They were my teammates. Even my parents were laughing.

I played the rest of the season, but I swear, and maybe this is some sort of built-in defense mechanism, but that is the only memory that I have of that whole season. That, and some teammate named Arturo, and his dad, who’d stand at the sidelines of every single game and scream, “Pass it to Arturo! Pass it to Arturo!” over and over again, like the only reason any of our parents signed us up for soccer was that somebody we might have the opportunity to pass it to Arturo.

Anyway, I still love playing sports. I love running around. I’m in good shape. I wish I were better when I was younger. I wish I could have had some cool sports memories, maybe like something where I’m a troubled youngster, and I wind up joining some pee-wee hockey league, but the coach isn’t into it, he’s only there because a judge told him he had to do it. But throughout the course of the season we’d all develop really strong bonds, and eventually we’d overcome insurmountable odds to win the championship. That would have been awesome.

Let’s go Mets! Let’s go Mets! M – E – T – S Mets, Mets, Mets!

I barely follow sports at all. Whenever something big happens, like one of the local teams makes it all of the way, or some new superstar moves to town, I always make sure that I know just enough about what’s going on so that I can join in on any potential conversations with friends or coworkers. I’m pretty good at faking any conversation. One time I talked to this guy about the TV show Breaking Bad for like four hours, and I had never even seen a single episode. He didn’t know that. I feel like, when people talk about stuff that they’re interested in, most of the time they’re only concerned about presenting their own ideas without any obstruction. And I’m the perfect guy to have that type of chit-chat with. I’m not going to be like, “I hate Breaking Bad,” I’ll be like, “I know right!” Validation, enthusiasm, direct eye contact. I’m really good at pulling just enough tiny fragments of pseudo-information out of my ass and presenting them as mirrors of the first person’s point of view.

But anyway, sports. Even though I couldn’t tell you exactly what’s going on right now, I’m still invested just enough that if push came to shove, I’d be able to pick a side and join allegiance against any enemy fans. Since New York has two of every major sports team, this means picking a favorite across the board. And I have one of each. And it’s totally arbitrary. Well, maybe just a level up from arbitrary, because at this point, I’ve been a “fan” of each team for my whole life, so if anything, there’s a whole history based on what was once an arbitrary decision. So that has to count for something, right?

I definitely hate the Yankees. I’m not sure why, really, but the hate is real. So I have a Mets t-shirt. I’ll wear it around. It’s a cool shirt. I like the Mets’ logo and their colors. I love Mr. Met. But I’ll always find that whenever I’m walking around outside with my Mets shirt on, at least one or two complete strangers will feel the need to shout out something to me like, “Let’s go Mets!” as we cross paths. And I’m always way too late on the interaction to say anything back. I’m taken by surprise every time.

I really don’t get it. I live in Queens. Everybody’s wearing a Mets shirt. Is this person walking around screaming out, “Let’s go Mets!” to every single fan that he passes by? And it never comes out exactly, “Let’s go Mets!” it’s more like, “sco METS!” the first two words combined, said really low, and then Mets almost screamed, but not actually screamed, but by comparison, because the “sco” was said so low.

What are these people all about? What’s your angle? They look out at the world and they see things that confirm everything they already believe in. So it makes them happy to see themselves reflected back at them in the outside world. If you really need this type of a boost all the time, I guess a popular local sports team is a pretty good way to get your fix. Look at that bus! Mets logo! Yes! Guy with a Mets hat! All right! Another Mets shirt! Sco METS! I’m at Citi Field! Hell yeah!

I’m just walking around, head in the clouds, and by the time I’ve realized what’s even gone down, I’m just like standing there, turning around in circles, not even sure if the person who said it is still near me, or even which one of these people would have said it in the first place.

What am I supposed to do? I always wonder what I would say in response if I actually caught the comment as it happened in real time. Let’s say I see this guy approaching me, and I know he’s going to do it, he just has that look in his eye, and sure enough, like a foot in front of me, he says, “sco METS!” And I just stop. And I put up my hand for a high-five. And I say back to him, “All right! Mets! Wahoo!” Would he return my high-five? I’d be going out on a limb there. But then again, this guy already went out on a limb by saying something to me. And seeing as how I never ever respond, like I said, not because I’m rude, but just because the whole “sco METS” to random strangers things is always something I’m never expecting, I’m constantly leaving people hanging.

But I don’t really want that high-five to be reciprocated. Smack! Now we’re bros. Want to go grab a beer and watch the game? Uh, sure, I guess. That guy would find out in about ten minutes about how much I know about the Mets. Actually, that’s not true. I spent the first paragraph of this piece writing about how great I am at bullshitting about stuff that I don’t know anything about. And so I would be forced to sit there through the whole game, just nodding at all the right points, “I know right!” every single time. And it would be awful. Where was I going in the first place? Why did I drink so much beer?

One time I was looking for a job and feeling so down on my luck because nothing was going right and nobody was responding to my resume and I wasn’t getting any interviews. I’m walking around with my hands in my pockets and my head hung low and I see this lady with a duffel bag. The duffel bag was emblazoned with a corporate logo. So I stop right in front of her and scream out, “sco Goldman SACHS!” And she took a huge sidestep and tripped on the person next to us trying to get away from me as fast as she could. Come on lady! What the hell! Just give me a job at Goldman! I’m a fan! I swear!

All about soccer

I’ve tried a couple of times now to get into soccer, but it never takes. There are the obvious drawbacks: it’s too boring, it’s too foreign, it’s too popular. But it’s so easy to just sit back and make fun of soccer. Why not look at this objectively? Why can’t I get into soccer? What could be done to make soccer more appealing?

I think a lot of the problem lies in the fact that I really can’t seem to get into any sports. Sure, I have a very limited knowledge of what’s going on in sports, generally. Like, I know that Miami won the NBA championships. I didn’t watch any games. I watched some Knicks games, but only because everyone else I knew was constantly watching them, so I kind of only knew what was going on by association. And even then, my facts were garbled and came out all wrong if I tried to repeat them to somebody else. Does anybody else remember when the Knicks got rid of their coach Dan Tony? Yeah, I thought it was kind of a weird name also.

But at least if I watch a basketball game, I don’t have to be paying too much attention to at least know what’s going on. It’s the same with other sports, like hockey. You just kind of watch for a few minutes here and there and you can kind of get the gist of how it’s being played. But every time I watch soccer I’m just so bored, like beyond bored, and I’m pretty sure that even my friends who are sports fans are also bored, but they’re sports fans, so they can’t really admit how bored they are.

And it can’t be just the pace of the game. Baseball is unimaginably slow also, but even that is at least somewhat possible to follow. Baseball almost makes it a point to be slow. They want you to only be paying attention once in a while. This way you can buy snacks and spend eight dollars on a beer. It’s the kind of sport that you shouldn’t actually try to keep your eyes on for the whole game. And chances are, even with the most limited of attention spans, you won’t have missed anything.

But soccer demands constant attention. Watching a soccer game is like babysitting a one year old. It won’t just sit there, out of the way. The one year old baby insists on crawling around everywhere, never sitting still, touching everything. Best case scenario, it doesn’t cry. But usually, it’s going to want to stick its tongue in the wall socket, you’re going to have to say no, and it’s going to start wailing until it decides that it wants to play with the antique vase at the top of the bookshelf. The whole time, you have to sit there. You can’t take your eyes off the baby for a second. Maybe, and this is a big maybe, the baby will do something adorable, or it will look you in the eye and laugh, and you’ll feel like maybe you had a brief connection with this cute little kid. But more often than not, you’re just sitting there, counting down the second until its parents come back.

That right there is the perfect description of a soccer game. I’ve only ever been to one game, but that’s exactly what it was like. All of the fans were chanting nonstop, in unison, elaborate songs and dances, not even a chance to rest for a second, not even a minute to grab a beer or buy a snack. No, you’re demanded to pay attention to every single pass, every out of bounds, every blocked shot. Most of the time the game’s just going to end in a tie, zero to zero.

I think I might be a little biased. Even I know that it’s not exactly professional to try something once and then completely write it off. I think there has to be a deeper reason for my profound dislike of soccer. I only played soccer for one year in the second grade. My coach was this huge asshole named Ben Dash. His grandson was on the team and his name was Ben Dash also. Coach Dash only ran one play: get the ball to Ben Dash. Well one time I got the ball, which, considering my complete lack of anything even remotely close to a ball-handling skill, was a minor miracle in and of itself. As soon as my foot touched the ball, I heard a shout from the sidelines. It was Ben Dash. He was screaming to me, “Pass the ball to Ben Dash!”

Not today. I went for it. I charged down the field, a blur, expertly passing all of the players in my way. I got to the goal and shot. And I missed completely. Then I heard Coach Ben Dash calling me off the field. Come on! I just had a shot! That’s huge in soccer! But it turned out that I had shot on my own goal. I turned around and realized that all of the players I had ran past were my own teammates. Everyone was laughing at me, all of the other parents, even my parents. It wasn’t my fault, it was soccer’s fault.

I’ve always thought soccer would be better played with three or four soccer balls at the same time. There also should be a three point line. And a four point line. And some traps. I also think it would be cool if somebody made a sport that was like real life foosball. They could attach all of the players to giant poles that would swing us all around wildly, allowing us to turbo-kick the ball. That would be awesome. It would be like a thrill ride and a sport at the same time.

One day I’m going to buy my own soccer team and I’m just going to order all of my players to try to pick up the ball with their hands and just throw it into the net. Even if the refs blow the whistle, just keep going, I’ll tell them, don’t stop. I don’t care how many players get ejected from the game, I’ll be paying my players so well that nothing will be able to stop them. And I’ll bring my own scoreboard to the game and I’ll count every goal that we throw in our opponents’ net. And I’ll host my own championship match, and if the other team doesn’t show up, I’ll call it as a forfeit, that we won. Eventually I’ll just be so loud and obnoxious, our victories scored higher and higher, our end-of-the-game parades more and more elaborate, that the other teams won’t have any choice but to stoop to my level. I’ll have finally made soccer interesting and watchable. And the whole world will thank me. And I’ll say, you’re welcome.

Bribery should be OK

I think that professional sports leagues should allow bribery. As much as I try, season after season, I can just never get into sports. Everyone at work always talks about sports. And for some reason, I always think that I’ll just be able to jump in the middle of a conversation and say something that makes it seem like I know what I’m talking about. I’ll read the papers and look for nuggets of insight or something interesting to point out. But I always tell my anecdotes out of context. And besides, it never comes out as genuine, and I think people can pick up on that. Also, if I happen to say something that’s actually relevant to what’s going on, my colleagues will almost always ask me to elaborate, or continue talking to me. In which case I just keep saying, “What?” all while slowly backing away until they’re out of earshot and I really can’t hear them anymore. Bribery would add a whole new level to the game, and would make everything much more interesting, not only for me, but for everyone who insists on talking about sports with me.

I have a constitutional argument for bribery. Aren’t the paying of and/or soliciting of bribes just an extension of our first amendment rights to free speech? I’m going to look it up. OK, I just looked it up and it turns out I’m right (big surprise, right?) Who the hell gets to decide how I can or can’t use my money to influence a game that I’m only marginally a part of? So let’s get on this Justice Department.

Bribery, on the surface, only seems unfair because it’s not out in the open. There are a few ways we could fix this. Bribery could be done all under the watchful gaze of the public eye. So if I go to a sports team and pay a bribe for them to throw the game, everyone would know about it. You might think that this would just end the game, and thus the fun, right there. But you’d be wrong. It would basically be an invitation for someone with even more money to bribe the other team to lose also. Now things would be really interesting. If, all of the sudden, you’re watching a professional sports game, and both sides look like they’re purposefully trying to lose, well then you’ll know what’s going on. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see what would happen if both teams really tried to lose? Would the losers then be the winners? I think we’d all be the winners.

But, yeah OK, having everything out in the open seems like a little too much freedom. I think that it should be allowed, but those doing the bribing should be permitted a little anonymity, just a little, again, in the interest of keeping the game interesting. Gambling would have to be made legal for this to work. And bets would have to be continuously accepted throughout the course of a game. Say, for example, that I’m watching a game, and one side is just playing terribly. I might have a pretty good idea that the losing team is just botching it on purpose, so I’ll be able to call in a bet. But then the bribers would be able to take a look at the spread in real time, and they could also adjust their bribes accordingly. Now it would be even more interesting, because you could have money on a certain team, but also have money against whoever is making the bribes.

Now that I’m actually thinking about it, like really thinking about it, I don’t think institutionalized bribery would work out. It just seems like we’d be driving everything to the lowest standards possible. Maybe the bribing should be allowed, but just left solely to the officials. And it could all be really hush-hush. If I were a referee or an umpire or a judge or whoever is in charge of calling the shots for whatever sport I might be observing, I would go around and solicit bribes from one team every game. But after a team paid me, I would make sure that this team lost. And afterwards, the players and the coaches would surround me in the parking lot and say, “Hey! We paid you a bribe! And we expected results!” And I would respond to them, “Well, you wanted results, you got it. The result is a life lesson. And the life lesson is: You shouldn’t bribe the ref.” And they would all lower their fists and their bats and sticks and they would look at each other and slowly come to the realization that, it’s true, cheaters never win.

The only problem with this scenario is: what if a team pays me a bribe, and I want to teach them a lesson, so I plan to make them lose, but it turns out that they are so much better than the opposing team that there is nothing I can do to sway the outcome? Simple. I’ll let them win, but then I’ll tell everyone that they were cheating, that they were using rigged equipment. And I’ll produce baseball bats filled with metal and duffel bags filled with steroids. And I’ll have somebody punch me in the face and I’ll point to my black eye and tell everyone, “See? They’ve been threatening me the whole game. I tried to stand up for the integrity of sportsmanship, but they punched me in the face!” Also, I’d tell them about the bribe, but I’d say that it was forced upon me, that I never wanted to accept it in the first place. I’d probably be portrayed in the news as a hero, as a regular guy who stood up for what’s right.