Being a Good Sport

I don’t do sports.

I don’t know sports.

I don’t follow sports.

If sport were a verb, I would not sport.

If sports were a boat and my wading skills were not up to par (as they probably would not be), I would rather drown that get into a passing sport.

But I’m the first to be surprised at the idea of me being mad for not snagging a ticket to the city’s most anticipated event this winter, the NHL Winter Classic.  By now I am confident that most people have talked each others’ ears off about this outdoor hockey game, how it’s the first time the special event will have taken place in the United States.  About how ever many times the Pittsburgh Penguins have beaten the Buffalo Sabres in a January game, or on a Tuesday, or vice-versa, or however it works.  Whatever.

I’m upset because despite my inattentiveness to whichever game is being unfurled in front of my eyes, I still love watching games when in the company of friends, food and drink, of course.  I don’t know what I’m watching, but I know it’s unlike anything I could have chosen on Bravo or E! or one of those cable networks, and I know that I love the camaraderie of game-watching.  Especially in a town like Buffalo, where losing never seems to take us out of the game.  (Unless, of course, we are in fact taken out.  It’s been known to happen.  It’ll happen again.)

Some who know me will read through this post of regionalistic pride and see that I care more about the event than I do the game.  But I don’t really care.  I care about it all.  Of course I want the Sabres to win that game.  And some others.  Many others, I suppose.  That helps them get to the Big Super Game Bowl, right?

I’m just a sucker for wintertime crowd-gathering, from the pick-up scrimmages of street football the kids down the street organize on the fly, to making snowmen in the park and then sledding down an embankment into them, I love getting outside and excited about our snow.

So I hope the Sabres make more scores than the Penguins.  And I hope the Penguins are less good at putting the ball into the hoop than the Sabres are.  I hope they get a lot of snow.  And I hope every one of the 41,000 fans freeze their tushes off.  And I hope I’m watching from the comfort of my couch, in the warmth, with a beer, chicken wings and a bowl of bleu cheese, secure in knowing that only an event like this—in a city like this—could make me forget about Bravo.

Official artist rendering courtesy Let’s Go Sabres..

Posted by on 09/19 at 03:45 PM