I am not terribly sporty.

I once made somebody at work laugh so hard they choked by saying that.

And it’s true. I have attended exactly two baseball games, at both of which I spent a cursory five minutes deciding that J.J. Hardy is not nearly as adorable as everyone else seems to think he is, and then listened to my iPod. I’m not morally opposed to baseball. Do not get me started on football. They’re all massively obese and fall on people. Falling on people is not a talent. At least in baseball you have to hit a little ball (and I know from my t-ball days that that is easier said than done. I was the world’s most uncoordinated seven-year-old. My dad almost had to stop coaching the “team” he was so embarrassed.) Although I maintain that doing something thirty percent of the time is not doing something well. I’m fairly certain that when I am a professor, if only thirty percent of my students pass the head of the department may like to have a word with me. I’m just saying.

Anyway. I have had to deal with entirely too much sporty stuff this morning, and it’s not even eight-thirty yet. Supposedly there was some Brewers game last night? And something fantastically wonderful akin to the second coming happened? I really wouldn’t know, because I am happily ignorant of most sports games unless they interrupt my regularly scheduled programming (SCREW YOU MARCH MADNESS).

Except that I had a roughly half-hour drive this morning in a car without a CD player. So I happily turned on WKTI, looking for my Top 40, and instead I got baseball talk. I changed the channel. More baseball talk. Overall, I heard ONE SONG, heard the audio from the grand slam (Oh, no, I’m not completely stupid. I know what that is.) FIVE DIFFERENT TIMES, and a discussion of the game like sixteen more.

And then once during the homily. No, I’m not kidding. (It was tasteful. But still.)

Gah. Please, please let me go back to ignoring sports now, world. Thank you.

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