I had escaped my confines for a more picturesque backdrop at a nearby state park. I didn’t have internet unless I wanted to walk a short distance, which I didn’t want to. I enjoyed nearly getting swept into a river channel and what looked like a huge increase in the deer population. It was warm and enjoyable.
I returned here to find out that my childhood favorite (US) football team found itself missing two of their quarterbacks and facing doom connected to being mediocre around greatness.
I had grown away from following most sports. I have too many things that I need to be doing and I think most grown men use “following” sports to paint over what causes pain in their lives. (That and I think it is largely bullshit for men to do so, but I will punt over this).
When I stopped following those major sports teams I had noticed that I felt better. I don’t let it run my life. I enjoy watching a game with a friend on occasion, but I don’t have a grasp on what the huge picture is. (I know the rules from playing and watching it as a kid).
I have talked before the joys and stresses of not having excessive sports in my life. I am enjoying a flirt with fall. I need to go jog instead of sitting on my ass.
It is sad that many people I know have a emotional connection to a bunch of college students playing a game. I wish I could root them on when they are navigating their careers after sports. I wish I could cheer when they volunteer at a local school. I want to cheer when they give a buddy a ride home when the other guy is trashed, instead of leaving him to the fundraising activities of our states legal system.
In short, my team sucks this year. Their coach is on the hot seat. I honestly don’t care enough to cry. I was still in awe of almost passing out in the water yesterday.