I just don't get sports. I attribute that to the fact that I grew up in an era when girls didn't get to play sports. The mere mention of a girls basketball team could get you tarred, feathered and shamefully placed on public display. Ah, those were the good ole' days.
Even when I attended the regular (boys) sporting events, I didn't 'get' them. School and sporting events were like a real live Facebook experience to me, there were just too many people to talk to. The folks would always ask me who won the game when I got home and most of the time I didn't have a clue.
Football perplexes me. One grandson plays football and the only time I could keep track of him was when his socks didn't match the rest of the team. Run two feet and jump on top of each other, get up, run two more feet and jump on top of each other. Sometimes they don't even run, they just jump on top of each other.
On our way home from an evening with some friends last night, we stopped by the local watering hole. The building that houses the watering hole had a brief stint as a funeral home and Mother was their first customer. When the watering hole had its grand opening someone asked me what I thought of the new place. I told them I thought it was fine but the last time I had been in there, Mom was laid out right by the front door. She sure looked pretty. They didn't talk to me much after that. Hey, it's a small town, buildings are scarce, you have to make do with what's available.
Anyway, last night the watering hole was full of sports enthusiasts and they were watching baseball. It almost looked like a sports bar, but since it only has two TV screens, it probably doesn't qualify for that status.
Everyone was having a good time and getting along. I realized that was because everyone was cheering for the same team. The game was close to being over and the score was tied. Each time their team was up to bat there was a flurry of white towels swirling above everyone's head and a steady hand drumming on the bar. This would end with either a loud groan or a rousing roar.
I may not get sports, but I can get caught up in the crowd's enthusiasm so I watch the screen with the same eagerness everyone else has. I can also figure out that the guy up to bat looks like if he connects with the ball, the ball could go out of the stadium, so the pitcher is going to make sure that doesn't happen. The ninth inning ends and the score is still tied.
"Now we go into overtime?" I ask. My husband rolls his eyes and moves further away. Someone corrects me,"Extra innings." Overtime, extra innings or a 10 minute warning, same difference to me.
Everyone told me the game was between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the St. Louis Cardinals but I wasn't too sure about that. Looked more like the Amish Mafia vs. Duck Dynasty, but what do I know, I just don't get sports.
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