My relationship with sports

I live in Alabama so from birth you are indoctrinated as either a believer in the ways of Roll Tiding or War Eagling. I came from a divided family so basically, I was completely screwed in the head.

My father's side will not mention Auburn with out some sort of expletive attatched to it. "Fucking Auburn defense, cock sucking Auburn quarterback, that raging box of dildos they call a coach." I was pretty much forced to play outside for 800 hours when the Alabama vs. Auburn game was on as a youngster. If Auburn actually won, my dad made me pretend I was Native American and go on a pilgrimage to find my spirit animal out in the woods for about 6 whole days. I always had to come back and tell them my spirit animal was an elephant. If I had told them I was a tiger, I would have been disowned.

My mother's side was not nearly as intense about their support for Auburn. In fact, it was only an obligatory support because my uncle went there. He was on the cheerleading squad. My dad tormented my uncle. I did not know what gay people were at the time, but apparently my uncle was one, even though he was not. I later learned he did it because it's an awesome way to score with the ladies. My maternal grandfather, he was about the only member of my mother's side of the family that would cheer raucously during the televised games, but that was only if he had vodka. He cheered raucosuly for Hee Haw when there was vodka involved.

Someone in the cornfield on Hee Haw: "That lady singer last night sure did have a large repertoire - but her dress covered most of it."
Grandfather and Aristocrat on the rocks: "WOOOOOOO DOGGY DID YOU HEAR THAT! HAR HAR HAR! HER FREBERTOIRE! DAMN THIS HEE HAW IS GOOD!"

Once I was old enough to actually make an educated decision of my own, I made the "I don't give a fuck about either team" decision. Still to this day though, I lie to my father about two things; Do I believe The Lord Jesus Christ is my saviour, and who am I supporting in collegiate football. It isn't always true that honesty is the best policy.

Once I was older and was supposed to start joining school sporting teams or playing games during gym class, I didn't. P.E. was the bane of my existance. I didn't mind being active, I just hated being active with 38 other children that had to see me be completely ungraceful and uncoordinated. I absolutely loathed any game that involved bases. When you had to stand in the line of shame for team picking I automatically had some disease that sent me to the nurses office. Once, they had gymnastics week. I sprained my wrist doing a cartwheel and the rest of the week was spent as a teachers aide. Towards the end of gymnastics week they were actually going to force us to try the uneven bars. Fuck that. And that god damned Presidential Fitness Test. Hold on, I must take a xanex so I can type more about that fucking Presidential Fitness test....
THE MOST AWFUL, EVIL, and EMBARRASSMENT INDUCING TEST YOU COULD EVER INVENT! Plus, Ronald Reagan did not give two shits about how many push ups I could do. There were always the 2 or 3 assholes who could do all of the activities with absolutely no problem at all, and then there were the rest of us. Sure, I did about 1 zillion sit-ups in a minutes time but while exceling in that part of the test, I farted in my spotters face. I couldn't climb a rope to save my life, and WHY WOULD I EVER NEED TO DO THAT IN REAL LIFE!? Pull-ups, I could do one girl style one. Then there was the mile run. Let me give you a little info here, I started getting breasts at the age of 9. By the age of eleven, I was that girl in school who had really big boobs and was tormented morning, noon, and on the 3 o'clock bus ride home about it. It didn't stop until about 9th grade. So that mother fucking mile run... It seemed like every boy in school ran it in under 7 minutes, and when they finished they were allowed to sit on the bleachers until the entire class completed. After lap one in front of the bleacher boys, I decided I was never running again for the rest of my life. Seriously, unless I were to be attacked by zombies or a knife wielding stabber rapist, I am speed walking at best. The bleacher taunts were so horrible that I have blocked them from my mind and would probably need extreme therapy if I were to try to dig them out of their brain hiding place.

And now I have grown up. I will get together with friends to enjoy a football game, and to be a good guest, I will "woot" when the team they support makes a touch down, or doesn't incomplete a pass, or field goals, or intercepts, or whatever is good for their team. It's fun, I like it, but the outcome only affects me because it either makes my friends happy or sad. I like the Yankees because this seems to piss off everyone I have ever known in the history of my life. I enjoy watching Ultimate Fighting type stuff because it's mean as hell. But, for the most part I am still listed on the ballot of fandom as a member of the "I don't give a fuck" party.

But for two days now I have watched a few Olympic events. Oh my freaking gawd! I have never gotten so into competition in my entire life!

Saturday I was flipping channels and apparently hell had frozen over because Law and Order wasn't on anywhere, so I decided to stop on these two ladies with giant poking sticks and wearing astronaut suits with light show helmets to see what it was all about. What I had discovered wasn't science fiction at all, it was fencing. From what I have learned about fencing only really rich people do it, they have to be preparing to, or currently enrolled in an ivy league school, and you probably have to like french things a lot. I think it was the competitors banshee like screaming that made me keep watching. If you lost an attack, you screamed in anger. If you won an attack, you screamed in joy that sounded very similar to anger. I didn't have a favorite fencer I was cheering for but the gold, silver, and bronze all went to Americans. I guess that makes sense since we have a whole shit load of ivy league schools and people who covet all things french. Boxing came on next so I decided I had enough Olympic excitement for one day.

Then came Sunday. Sunday, traditionally the day of rest, relatively stress free activities, and catching up on my Netflix instant view or post arrival movies. This Sunday evening was not like that though. Even though there was an episode of Law and Order something or another on that I had not seen before, I chose to watch the Olympics once again. I was pretty excited because, while I will not do a cartwheel or get on uneven bars and twirl around, I was hypnotized by the ability of these little waifs. Spinning, twirling, flying through the air as though gravity doesn't apply it's rules to 80 lb 15 year olds... except for when it tragically does and they smash there pretty heads on the soft mats and watch the years of training they have suffered through, for this moment, turn into the ultimate in "I've done this right a million times! Why now!?" It breaks my heart. I literally gasped when one of the American team members had a fabulous routine on the uneven bars, only to let go a little too late on her dismount and eat rubber. That girl needed a hug. Sure, each seasons Olympics have one sport that everyone loves. The summer has gymnastics, and the winter has ice skating, but did anyone ever really give a shit about swimming before? I will go out on a limb and say that not many people are all, "Oh gracious, UAB's swim team will be having a 400m relay race that everyone MUST attend! I have cancelled my once in a lifetime opportunity to ride with NASA on a shuttle trip to Mars because I LOOOOOVE the breast stroke!" Nope, not gonna happen. I wouldn't even give up a gynecologist appointment.

Last night though, something must have been in the water :: ba dum dum Chhh:: because I every orifice on my body was clenched in anticipation during that whole hoopla 400 m freestyle race. Those Frenchies bad mouthed us 'Mericans and by gracious we showed them up good like by winnin' that swimming hole race by only the smallest fraction of a second! I nearly pissed myself but then realized I wasn't actually on the American Olympic swim team and I wasn't really in a pool where it's completely acceptable to piss yourself.

I don't know if my relationship with sports will change much over the next few days of relays and medal ceremonies, but I do know that I will be watching the dumbest "sports" ever known to man just to feel like I'm an American. Oh, I'll be listening to Lee Greenwood the whole time too. Don't you think that's what they should play when they play the National Anthem for our country? At least then all of the athletes would know the words.