I’m a huge sports fan but not a fanatic. I’ll put on a game in the background every weekend, but I draw the line at body paint and obnoxious chants. I am classy, after all. Anyone who has ever been to my apartment knows that I always listen to sports talk radio while I work, except when I need to focus. Those times are reserved for classical music. And when I’m bored out of my mind, the Zumba Pandora station will be on full blast. Salsa dancing included. I think I developed an appreciation for sports through osmosis. When I was a kid, the first thing I wanted to do when I got home was catch afternoon TV shows like Power Rangers, Sailor Moon, Pokemon, and X-Men. The lead-in songs for those shows are unparalleled, by the way. Pure childhood bliss. On some days, however, my older brother insisted on breaking up my afternoon routine and put on baseball game. Sadness would wash over my face as I no longer had an excuse to delay homework. As the years rolled on, I found myself sticking around to watch baseball games with my brother, homework in hand of course. You know what, it grew on me. I found myself actually enjoying all those strikes, home runs, ground-rule doubles, pop-outs, 6-4-3 double-plays, and balks. I tried my best to resist, I swear. But the game was perfect background noise during my endeavors to solve quadratic equations (that skill turned out to be useful). This quirky habit of listening to sports-related chatter while I worked has carried on to this day, maybe even as I am writing this post.
