I don't get it. I can't count how many times I repeated this to my sports-obssessed ex-boyfriend during the year we dated. People go nuts for tailgating, body paint and Super Bowl parties. This behavior makes them look like ridiculous, idiotic monkeys running around in jerseys.
I know enough about sports to identify with the whole idea of it. I understand the fervor of the game, the anticipation and the suspense. When the Cleveland Browns beat the New York Giants, I almost had a heart attack, and if the Cincinnati Bengals beat anyone, it's a miracle.
I just don't understand what could have motivated my ex-boyfriend to completely rip my head off every time his football team lost.
The only time he was ever furious with me was when he told me his team lost, and he would be irritable for the rest of the day. I responded with a snarky remark along the lines of, "It's only a game," which set off an atomic bomb.
He would get so into these games and show his rage as if he enjoyed being one of "those guys." You know the kind - the "I'm-so-cool-because-I-love-sports-so-much -and-I'm-such-a-man" type of guy.
I can't wrap my mind around the torture people put themselves through to play these sports. People severely injure themselves, and years after they quit, their bodies go through hell and back as a consequence.
My uncle has had five surgeries on both of his knees over the years as a result of playing football and basketball in high school and college. You should see him walk.
A friend of mine developed shin splints from running cross country. She also had to quit, and a teammate called her a bitch for abandoning the team.
I will never understand what it is about sports that makes people such fanatics. I will never become so obsessed with a team that losing a game will compromise my relationships with my friends, and I cannot see how a lifetime of horrendous aches and pains justifies a few glory years in high school and college.
Sarah Petersen is a student at Kent State University.
