I’ve never been a sports fan. I always felt more connected
to physical activities that offered shoes or handbags as prizes (until I found
online shopping and realized I was now opposed to all forms of physical
activity.) It wasn’t even so much that I disliked the idea of watching sports,
I just didn’t understand them and I was too ADD to ever properly learn the
rules. I have had many friends and boyfriends try to explain to me the detailed
statutes of various athletic events. I could never quite retain the information
being given to me. I’m not proud of this. The charming novelty of my lack of
athletic education is gone and left only people’s sheer disgust that, at 23
years of age, I still haven’t figured it out yet. I know that no finger can be
pointed at anyone other than myself, but I actually think that my brain
automatically repels the information to make room for the stream of neuroses
that perpetually flows through it. As you can imagine, the Super Bowl has never
been an annual source of excitement for me. It’s not that I don’t like the
commercials, although it’s sometimes hard for me to truly enjoy a Super Bowl
commercial because I have nothing to compare it to; I only watch TV on my DVR. It’s
not that I dislike the rituals of cheese-covered everything washed down with
gallons of beer; I’m not an animal, I love that. I also thoroughly enjoy the
halftime show just as much as any other self-respecting American; I’ll take any
excuse to possibly see nipple. Say what you want, but you know you rewound and
paused to see if it was ACTUALLY a real nipple. You did, I did, we all did. All
that aside, the honest and only reason I actually tune into the Super Bowl is
my sheer, social fascination of the female sideline reporter.
It is not that I am marveled by the fact that a female could
possibly possess an interest in sports so great that she should want to pursue
a career in it. I mean I’m not Lena Dunham or anything but I like to think I
hold some feministic ideals. I did just say “nipple” on the Internet so I’m
obviously incredibly progressive. I am just interested in what it would be like
to be so knowledgeable in the realm of athletics that not only could I actually
have a conversation about it, I could do it better than most men. This is a
feeling I have never known and will never know. Every year, when I tune into “The
Big Game,” my attention is completely consumed by Erin Andrews or her female
counterparts. I study her the way one might study an algorithm. I don’t understand
it so I am only more drawn to figuring it out. There is immense power in
knowing a lot about sports and I wonder if she completely understands that. I
wonder if she knows what it’s like on the other side. How tough it is for girls,
like me, when the tailgate has faded to black and you’re left at a bar with
your football savvy friends, fending for yourself. No matter how much beer you
drink, you still have no idea when to cheer. No matter how well executed your
themed outfit is, your friends are still going to get annoyed that you’re
reading a book on your phone. That’s a cross she will never have to bear. I bet
she completely owns first dates. No immediate chemistry? No problem. She knows
everything there ever was to know about the male species’ favorite topic. There
is no risk at sounding like that girl who pretends she knows a ton about sports
but really knows nothing, she has an entire nation backing up her credibility.
That must be the ultimate luxury. I can’t even imagine what it would look like
if I was asking the Seahawks post game questions. It would probably just turn
into a really long-winded game of Never Have I Ever.
Though I will never be Erin Andrews, I know there is a very
simple solution to my problem: learning the rules of sports. I’m not sure my
attention span will ever allow that to happen and I’m okay with that. I like
the mental vacation I take every year as I watch that long-legged athletic
encyclopedia make the Super Bowl her bitch. For now, I’m comfortable clinging
to the sporting event I do understand: The Academy Awards Red Carpet Special, the
actual award show, the post show, and the special episode of Fashion Police
after the post show ends.
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