The Culture of Sports in America
October 15, 2003
by Chelan David

I used to bemoan the fact that as a youth I wasted so much time on sports. Not the physical aspects, simply the mental aspects, as I devoted most of my brain’s capacity to seemingly trivial sports minutia.

Rather than devouring Dickens and Hemingway, I leafed through The Sporting News and Sports Illustrated memorizing statistics and delving into each article with the intensity of a Nobel scholar. Rather than attending theater productions I watched every type of sport imaginable on television, finding ESPN still in its infancy, to be a powerful stimulant. Rather than imbibing the sounds of Mozart and Tchaikovsky, each summer night I fell asleep listening to my beloved Kansas City Royals on the radio.

A recent event, however, made me realize that I have all the culture I need – at least American-style culture.

The Play: Homebody/Kabul The Game: Cubs vs. Braves

My revelation starting simply enough with a scheduling conflict. I had agreed to attend a performance of Homebody/Kabul with my wife, a play about late 1990s Afghanistan and a dysfunctional British family. As the playoffs chugged along, however, I learned that Game 5 of the Chicago Cubs and Atlanta Braves series would be starting 90 minutes prior to the play, meaning I would miss the last half of the game. I pleaded out, but the tickets had already been purchased and my wife did not share my somewhat distorted sense of history.

Me: But the Cubs haven’t won a post-season series since 1908.

Her: You’re not even a Cubs fan!

Me: I know, but this could be history in the making.

Her: If they win you’ll be able to watch the next series and if they lose you won’t have missed anything.

Me: But it could be an incredible game with an ending people will be talking about for years. Like Bobby Thompson’s "The Giants win the pennant!" homer, or Francisco Cabrera’s driving home Sid Bream in the ‘92 NLCS or Bucky Dent’s homer over the Green Monster - which was historic and it wasn’t even a playoff game!

Her: Bucky who? The Green what? Where do you want to eat before the play?

Me: Let’s go to the sports bar down the street from the theater.

The reviews for Homebody/Kabul were mostly positive. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer praised the play but charged that the actor’s "logorrhea (an inability to shut up) is apparently contagious." Two details grabbed my attention; the play clocked in at four hours and the first hour consisted entirely of an hour-long soliloquy by Homebody.

At least with this bit of knowledge maybe I could hatch an escape plan to the sports bar during one of the two intermissions. I studiously developed a formula taking into account estimated intermission times, the round-trip distance to the bar and most importantly, the variable factor of my wife’s level of patience.

Unfortunately, after Homebody’s mind-numbing, convoluted 60 minute diatribe, the intermission I had calculated into my algorithm failed to transpire. Instead, Homebody’s rambling segued into the second act with no break for another full hour. As the lights finally came on unmasking my glazed eyes I knew the game was long over and I might as well abort my plan.

Slouching around the lobby I wondered why they didn’t have a lounge somewhere in the theater with CNN running continuously. After all, everyone should have a chance to keep abreast of world events, and most importantly, have a sports ticker at their disposal. My mood soured even further when I realized it was impossible to commensurate with fellow baseball fans – it’s hard to detect possible allies without the telltale ensemble of baseball caps and replica jerseys.

Thankfully after the first intermission the pace of the play picked up and with no further appearances from Homebody, it was almost enjoyable. Also, I ultimately learned that while the Cubs did advance it was not a very exciting game.

Although not a nailbiter, the next day on the news, at the office and on the street, everyone was talking about the lovable Cubs. I didn’t hear anyone mention Homebody and if I’d tried to introduce her in conversation I’m sure I would have received a reception similar to Pedro Martinez taking a pre-game stroll in the Bronx.

As I reflected upon this experience I came to the conclusion that my obsession with sports has actually been a blessing in disguise, especially in the Dilbertfied corporate world. While my ability to list the participants in each Super Bowl seems to impress my superiors, I have a hunch that quoting Descartes or belting out Pavarotti would not attract the same captive audience.

My physical athletic abilities have also served me well in my attempt to climb the corporate ladder. At one advertising agency I worked for, I received more attention and praise for playing shortstop and coaching the firm’s undefeated softball squad than I ever did for countless hours of overtime or organizing a record-setting bowling event for charity.

In the same vein, after schooling a supervisor at another agency in a pick-up game, I noticed an increased amount of respect thrown my way during office hours. Apparently, being able to hit a pull-up 20-footer on the break showed I had a strong work ethic and fierce determination to succeed while never missing a deadline at work simply proved I was an office schmuck.

My sports background aids me much more than an artistic upbringing ever would, because in America – sports are culture. The Dallas Cowboys are America’s team. There is no America’s opera, no America’s ballet, no America’s symphony. Pete Rose is our Jean Valjean. Fenway, Wrigley, Lambeau and Madison Square Garden are our monuments and cathedrals.

Not to say we don’t have our unique brand of culture. Shakespeare couldn’t have penned a darker tragedy than the Boston Red Sox. Even a literary great with the ability to create the Curse of the Bambino would never be cruel enough to conclude the ending of a chapter with a loss begot by a wild pitch and slow grounder rolling under the limbs of a hobbled warrior.

Don’t get me wrong, I still think literature, museums and performing arts are important. It’s just that sports are one of the most important aspects of our society’s culture and I don’t get bored watching them.

(Chelan David is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine)