Lots of sportings have been going on lately.
Balls are being kicked into nets in the World Cup; balls were just being bounced and thrown into baskets in the NBA playoffs; and somewhere, even though I’ve seen and heard very little about it, pucks were being hit with sticks in the Stanley Cup.
So much competition. So much sporting. I hear various people yelling and getting excited in the apartments. So many words are written and shouted and chanted about such sports. Passion. Excitement.Passitement.
Earlier today at work, people packed the food court at lunch time, not to eat the lasagna and grilled veggies being served, no, but to watch the World Cup on BOTH of the television sets in there. (The lasagna and veggies were darn tasty, too, though.)
And just moments ago, my roommate was losing his mind in his room, yelling at the screen as the Los Angeles, CA Lakers narrowly defeated the Bostonian Celtics of Boston in the NBA Playoffs. He was more into it than I was into the season finale of CHUCK, which is saying something, as it included a cover of Jon Bon Jovi’s “Blaze of Glory” among other things I love and enjoy.
It’s madness, this sportingly love. And I wish I could be a part of it. Seems like fun, but, as with video games, I just don’t get into sports like I wish I did. People love ’em, live ’em, and lovey-love ’em, and I just… I dunno. I really feel like I’m missing out. Maybe I need to become more competitive. Or excitably in that joyful, fist pumping way. I dunno. I really do wish I could get all fired up like these sporting fans do about the sports and the whatnot.