I’ll admit I’m not the world’s most ardent sports fan.
I don’t religiously watch every game, mourn every loss, or debate every unfair call.
I don’t wear the merch, or hold my breath as teams either battle for a playoff spot or fade into mediocrity.
I don’t dissect each game in excruciating detail, or follow statistics with religious zeal.
I find the notion that “we” won somewhat amusing given “we” weren’t on the field or the ice.
I’m such a non-fan that I often jokingly refer to the entire exercise as sportsing. Because it’s a game, not life and death.
Despite my relative antipathy toward professional team sports that are more business than sport, anyway, I appreciate why so many folks get it.
The mere act of walking into an arena or a stadium is as resonant as an adult as it was when we were kids. These places are beautifully and massively scaled temples of civic life, where countless stories will inevitably play out, and indelible memories will be shaped in the crucible of competition.
And as Toronto’s Blue Jays return to the Rogers Centre for their season opener later today, I’m taken back to my most recent visit there as their last, forgettable and regrettable season wound down.
It was magical then, and it’ll be magical again, regardless of any game’s result or where the team ends up in the standings. You don’t have to be a superfan to appreciate what makes the entire exercise as special as it is.
Maybe none of this is life and death, but it’s still worth holding on to in its own way.
Maybe something as seemingly simple as a game can bring light to the lives of those who watch.
I’m glad I’m not the only one who still believes.
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