I could probably sum up this whole post in one word: EVERYTHING. However, I'm the Queen of crapping on about nothing, so without further ado here are ten random, hodge podge things I don't get or like about sport.
They are scary. I hate them and fear them. This aversion dates to back to childhood when I was perpetually in fear of a ball hitting me in the face during sport or in the play ground. There is probably a word for this particular phobia. Ballsophobia? Who knows. Anyway, I have it. Therefore, it's ironic that I've ended up surrounded by males with their balls. I meant soccer balls. For goodness sake, don't be so juvenile. Just because I was juvenile enough to go with such a bad pun...ahem...
The kind where they (the commentators) make the most stunning announcements that seem like Captain Obvious by pointing out that the runners are at the starting line or a player has passed the ball during a footy match. I would never have noticed. Plus, there is the endless chatter and droning on before a match. It's boring enough, dudes. Just get on with it!
3. Garrulous/Annoying/Obsessive Spectators or Supporters
You know the kind. They are loud and proud supporters of their team, going to such extremes as dyeing their hair the same colours as their team. They will spend the entire match bellowing out helpful instructions, as if the players are wandering around the field bewildered; not knowing what to do until that moron in the grandstand yells at them to tackle for the umpteenth time. These supporters can also sometimes be one-eyed and don't accept losing very graciously. Alternatively, they may sob in utter despair if this happens. I'm never sure whether to feel sympathetic or just downright alarmed at the sight of a grown adult weeping like a baby over a sporting event. It's just a game, isn't it? Suffice to say, I don't get it.
4.The Same As The Above But Parents Of Children
My boys play soccer because it's better for them to be running around in the sunshine on a Saturday morning rather than sitting in front of a PlayStation. Apparently, some parents have other ideas about their children playing sport. They take it all a bit too seriously. They yell. A lot. Their faces become contorted as they break out in a cold sweat and then yell some more.
Sometimes they look like the are about to burst a blood vessel or take a fit as they implore young Jack/Stella/Lachlan to "RUN!"
"WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"
They repeat this tirade incessantly for the duration of the match. I always end up feeling sorry for young Jack/Stella/Lachlan.
They are children for Christ's sake, not playing in the World Cup. Okay, I suppose budding sporting stars have to start somewhere, but I doubt that embarrassing the crap of your kid is the ideal way to fire them up. I wish these parents would just have a sausage sandwich and CHILL.
5. The Actual Rules
My knowledge of soccer pretty much goes like this: There is a ball, there are two teams and they try to kick the ball into a net to score a goal. The end. There is probably a bit more to it, right? Don't ask me what that is, though.
6. The Amount Of Money Sporting Stars Are Paid
I can't deny that sport is lucrative. It seems that at the top end, athletes are paid extremely well. Take Golf for example. Seriously - take it. Most. Boring. Sport. Ever. But Golf heroes like Tiger Woods are zillionaires. Why? On second thought, the money could be the only incentive to take up something so mind-numbing as hitting a ball into a little hole. There could be more to Golf than that but I wouldn't know. I've already tuned it out after 2 excruciating seconds.
7. Ridiculous Sporting Gear/Attire.
Luckily, leg warmers and thong leotards have been out of style for a decade or two now. At least I hope they are ( I can't be entirely sure since I never set foot in a Gym) because they are crimes against fashion. And what about the tendency to wear gym gear as regular clothes? I may be guilty of this, but only around the house. I change when I have to go to school pick-up. Unlike some parents, who turn up in head to toe Lycra. I guess they want everyone to know they've been working out. Fair enough. I hadn't thought of that tactic. Maybe I should wear my yoga pants to school pick-up. That way there is remote chance that it looks like I've been working out instead of surfing the net for half the day. I mean, I'd never do THAT. Nope. No way. Shut up.
Then there is the humble old track suit. Isn't this kind of redundant in the land of Oz? I mean in terms of actually doing any physical activity while wearing it? Nobody wears them for that, right? They're just for lounging around the house in. Or is that just me? Ahem...
8. Irritatingly Upbeat Instructors
These are usually seen on exercise DVD's. I have quite the collection of these because I'm that one in a billion bizarre person who likes working out at home, alone. It's hard to find one with an instructor who isn't as grating as nails on a chalk board.
"Don't you stop! If you rest you rust!" they holler while pumping away with determination.
"You're doing great!" they then announce while beaming in between spirited "Woo's!" and "Yeah baby's!"
"Yes! Yes! YES!" moans one instructor on a DVD I own. It sounds like she's trying to channel Meg Ryan's infamous fake orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally. I'm reasonably certain that exercising or doing aerobics doesn't cause multiple orgasms because a) if it did, it would be SO much easier to motivate ourselves to do it; and b) if it does, then I must be doing it wrong.
9. Over The Top/Complex Workout/Aerobics Routines
This usually goes hand in hand with the above annoying instructors. They will be gazing out triumphantly on the cover looking ripped, while on the back cover the blurb assures you: This energising, fun workout can be done by anyone at home, with any fitness level, from beginners to advanced. Bullshit.
You unwittingly begin the workout feeling optimistic. All goes well for the first five to ten minutes as you warm up. You're able to follow the moves without any problems. You're actually getting into it! Exercise is FUN! Wrong.
"Okay, we're moving on now," beaming annoying Instructor announces. Suddenly she is telling you do things you thought were only applicable in Cirque Du Soleil.
"Okay! Lets do 50 jacks, then drop and give me 50 push-ups!" she performs this feat effortlessly while you huff and puff away, ineffectually. She bounces back up "WOO!" she declares "Now stand on your head, do 10 back flips, pirouhette six times, balance on one finger, then the other finger, then mambo, then cha, cha, cha and give me ANOTHER 50 PUSH UPS! YOU CAN DO IT!!"
Um no, I can't. Okay, I may be exaggerating slightly. But this is what it feels like. A good old grape vine is as complex a move as I can muster. If you don't what they are then you obviously never did aerobics in the 1980's. Consider yourself lucky.
My boys and Micky Blue Eyes have an assortment of soccer trophies. Don't get me wrong, I am proud of their sporting achievements. But why oh why do all trophies have to be so hideously ugly? Naturally, they want to display these monstrosities proudly around the house. Not only are they are an interior design nightmare in terms of aesthetics, but they are also horrific dust collectors. Then again, dusty and hideous seems to be the look we were aiming for around here so I guess I should quit complaining.
Thus ends my illustrious list. I just wanted to add that while I really dislike all sport, I particularly abhor cricket. Or, as I refer to it, The Three B's; which stand for: Bats, Balls, BOOOORRRRRRING!!
And with that, I'm out of here before all you cricket tragics take after me with a bat...*ducks for cover.*
Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.
Also linking with Emily from Have A Laugh On Me for Laugh Link.
What don't you 'get' about sport?
Monday, 26 May 2014
Ten Things I Don't Get Or Like About Sport and Exercise
Labels: Aerobics DVD's, Balls, Children, Funny observations, Humour, I Must Confess, Laugh Link, Sport
Hi, I'm Vanessa but everyone calls me Ness. I'm married to Mick and Mum to three boys. My interests include exercising vigorously, staring into space vacantly and a disturbing Karen Carpenter obsession. At age 40 I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. I'm always off in my own little World so I figured I may as well invent one. Welcome to Nessville! Thanks for stopping by!