the throws of passion
In a post-pizza haze the other night, the boyfriend flipped on (what else) SportsCenter. I watched intensely, a cheesy odor wafting up from the corners of my mouth. Something about golf, something about Ben Rothlisberger's crazy pork chop-looking thumb brace, something about something. As Terrell Owens finished his in-depth commentary on himself, fancy graphics flashed and spun as the next segment landed on the screen: Professional baseball.
I will never know the pressure of a major league baseball career due to a myriad of reasons. I don't play sports. I don't like baseball. I don't like to challenge myself physically. Ever. But, let's say I somehow by the grace of a magically atheltic gene pool and the delayed appearance of testicles, I became a candidate for and then member of the professional baseball circuit. I'd have my pick of positions because I would be preternaturally good at all of them. I decide to become a pitcher. I can throw with 100% accuracy. I can say with unwavering certainty that if I were to meet a fellow sports god(dess) in the diamond who countered each of my orgasmic pitches with acumen only known to NASA computer programs, I would NOT, no matter what my manager says, intentionally aim my bullet-like baseball at the body of a batter. Who does that?
The Texas Rangers and Anaheim Angels do.
This was one of the internationally relevant stories on SportsCenter on this particular evening. Jealous men who make millions of dollars a year throwing balls at each other out of anger. Are we 12 again? Unable to control the frustration of an embarassing infield error? The shame, the regret, the rage, all bubbling over and hurled at the mid-section of another "grown" man in the form of a leather ball stuffed with string. That the first body pitch was reciprocated in later innings only makes those subsequent throws all the more ridiculous. "He started it!" a man would tattle. Then he'd pick his nose.
I'm continually amazed at the infancy of men, especially the sports idols exaulted on the shiny pages of magazines and splashy segments on TV. The manliest men are merely boys with advanced self-righteousness. As college graduates (most of them) they have learned to justify their actions with erudite words like "unfortunate" and "totally." It's retaliation for an unscrupulous deed, they claim. It's also decidedly UNprofessional. Stupid boys. Don't throw a ball at him, be a woman and stab him in the back.
I will never know the pressure of a major league baseball career due to a myriad of reasons. I don't play sports. I don't like baseball. I don't like to challenge myself physically. Ever. But, let's say I somehow by the grace of a magically atheltic gene pool and the delayed appearance of testicles, I became a candidate for and then member of the professional baseball circuit. I'd have my pick of positions because I would be preternaturally good at all of them. I decide to become a pitcher. I can throw with 100% accuracy. I can say with unwavering certainty that if I were to meet a fellow sports god(dess) in the diamond who countered each of my orgasmic pitches with acumen only known to NASA computer programs, I would NOT, no matter what my manager says, intentionally aim my bullet-like baseball at the body of a batter. Who does that?
The Texas Rangers and Anaheim Angels do.
This was one of the internationally relevant stories on SportsCenter on this particular evening. Jealous men who make millions of dollars a year throwing balls at each other out of anger. Are we 12 again? Unable to control the frustration of an embarassing infield error? The shame, the regret, the rage, all bubbling over and hurled at the mid-section of another "grown" man in the form of a leather ball stuffed with string. That the first body pitch was reciprocated in later innings only makes those subsequent throws all the more ridiculous. "He started it!" a man would tattle. Then he'd pick his nose.
I'm continually amazed at the infancy of men, especially the sports idols exaulted on the shiny pages of magazines and splashy segments on TV. The manliest men are merely boys with advanced self-righteousness. As college graduates (most of them) they have learned to justify their actions with erudite words like "unfortunate" and "totally." It's retaliation for an unscrupulous deed, they claim. It's also decidedly UNprofessional. Stupid boys. Don't throw a ball at him, be a woman and stab him in the back.
posted by Katie at 3:44 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home