Simone

I don’t understand organized sports. I never have and I don’t think I ever will.

The first, and most confusing thing, is the ownership which fans assume of their team. “My team.” “Our team.” Most devout sports fans I know are teenage boys or middle aged men. They are not professional football players. In no universe will they be. On no planet were they ever. And yet, they speak as though they were present in the athletic action, having a say in the strategy of play. I’d understand these verbal habits if organized sports worked in the way stocks did, and fans could buy shares in their team. In that case, one would literally own a part of the team, and so yes it would, in some form, belong to them. But it doesn’t work this way. Why the personal pronouns?

I understand the nature of wanting to experience something live, but think of all the wasted time, all of the missed opportunities. Televised sports come to a halt for commercial. Football stops every six or seven seconds. I cannot fathom the amount of time sports fans will spend in their lifetimes watching instant replays on loop.

There’s also the overzealous camaraderie of watching, or attending, or even talking about a sporting event. Why do people smashing their bodies into each other unite the masses in a far more effective way than beautiful music or literature? I think this says something about the human race.

But despite the so-called unifying effect of sports, we exclude women from the sphere? We discount their opinions and reactions to bandwagon thought. The hypermasculinity of sports makes for the exclusion of any non-heteronormative person. In my lifetime, I’ve witnessed the career of only one openly gay football player. And he’s the only openly gay football player ever. Fucked up if you asked me.

Of course, I sound hypocritical. Hollywood is to me what sports are to others. The Criterion Collection is my Hall of Fame. The Oscars are my Super Bowl. The problems of the two are very similar as well. The pundits insistent upon protecting the legacy of Peyton Manning against Cam Newton‘s newfound glory are like the Academy members who continuously ignore the achievements and mere existence of people of color. Both operate solely to maintain the traditional workings of a system—and flawed systems at that.

But, despite all it’s glaring flaws, I love Hollywood. It is drama (and very enticing drama at that), it is art (occasionally), and it is personal. I guess sports offer those same things to people, too. ♦