There are many things about Massachusetts that puzzle me - Sunday liquor regulations, the tax code, rotaries, and Ted Kennedy. But even more bewildering than how the good Senator manages to do all that looking out for the people while being drunk 75 percent of the time, is the obsession with the Boston Marathon.
The day the marathon is run is a state holiday, and while I am thankful for the day off from classes, I don't quite understand why a sporting event would be so important as to merit closing all governmental offices. Sure, it's Patriot's Day, but no other state closes down for that occasion. I also fail to see the pleasure that can be derived from standing out in the cold and rain to watch sweaty people run by panting. Running doesn't have the nostalgia of childhood days like baseball and football, nor is it very dramatic. Marathons are not "everyman's game" because few people have the talent and training to participate. There is no sense of joy that comes from seeing an athlete that you have rooted for a long period of time win because no one idolizes marathoners like they do other professional athletes. Yet somehow, each April, millions of people line the streets of Boston to witness the race.
Though most sports columnists are loath to admit weakness in knowledge, I must say that the marathon is one of many aspects of the sporting world that I do not understand. Among the others are:
Ricky Henderson
How Ricky is still playing baseball is beyond me. The 43-year-old outfielder, who spent most of his career with the Oakland A's and New York Yankees, holds many stolen base records, including the fact that he is the only person to have stolen a base in Abner Doubleday's original baseball game in the 1880s. Every year, he is traded or contracted to a different team, and it appears he has passed his prime and will retire soon. But he never does. He's like the energizer bunny of baseball.
Why football players love inclement weather
During the Patriots' first-round playoff game, they looked like they were ice skating on the snow-covered ground. How is it that football refuses to postpone games when the weather gets bad when baseball doesn't mind at all? How can the players enjoy running around in the cold getting wet and muddy? And how can the fans enjoy standing in the snow for so long to watch the game? I can see how playing during a snow flurry might seem glamourous, but when weather starts to effect the game and cause silly errors, wouldn't it make the sport more pure if the game was halted?The point of All-Star voting
Since when did sports become a democracy? The whole idea of allowing fans to select the best players is ridiculous, because fans are going to vote according to team loyalty and name recognition, not statistics. Players from teams with bigger stadiums obviously have an advantage, and eager fans like myself can fill out 20-30 ballots in a game. Though the final All-Star teams are a combination of fan choices and managers' or coaches' selections, fan voting still has a large impact on who the starters for most sports' All-Star games will be. Why games are set up this way is beyond me, as All-Star voting is even more illegitimate than elections in Florida.
How curling is a sport to begin with
By definition, most sports require some sort of exercise and talent.
Ted Sarandis
The host of the sports talk show Ted-Nation on Boston's WEEI 850 is more loud and ignorant than Rush Limbaugh. His shows consist largely of him berating and ridiculing callers, interspersed with a few comments on the likelihood of a Brett Saberhagen comeback this year. Many things puzzle me about Ted, including how he fills five hours of air time a night without providing any meaningful insights on sports, how callers even want to deal with him when he does nothing but ridicule them, and how there is an audience for five hours of pointless chatter a night.
The Canucks
Why would anyone choose to name a team something that sounds like a sneeze? I just want to say "bless you" when I hear the Canucks mentioned. The name is even worse than some of the bizarre college nicknames out there, like the Crimson, Terps, Ephs, and Buckeyes.
Memory of sports statistics
The first time I ever saw the Red Sox win, it was September of 1992, Joe Hesketh pitched against the Seattle Mariners, and the Sox won 17-6. I can recite details such as scores and batting averages without even thinking about it. Yet every Tuesday and Thursday when I am quizzed on the democratization of Latin America, I have trouble recalling the definitions I read the night before. How is it that the human brain can retain so much useless knowledge and not the stuff that we actually need to remember, like the formula to solve a problem set, where we put our keys, and when our parents' birthdays are? Sometimes I wonder if I am storing so many sports statistics in there that there is no room for anything else.
Sports is not the only sector of our society to be dominated by inexplicable phenomena. Whether it is in sports, politics, movies, or music, the taste of Americans is extremely odd. We have still yet to understand the rise of New Kids on the Block and what exactly it is that Dick Cheney does as vice president. So perhaps it is the oddities of the sporting world that make it so intriguing. The bizarre games, scoring methods, and team names allow those who actually understand them to feel in the inside circle. And the bizarre players and personalities associated with sports allow us to feel that our own oddities are normal.
