The female perspective
58Game On!
The referee blows the whistle. The ball goes up in the air. The crowd cheers. The excitement and tension in the air is palpable.
The commentator gives a running account of the game and, at times, by the way his voice escalates with great excitement, I feel as if he is commenting on a horse race or selling a rare piece on auction. The words tumble, and fumble, much like the players on the field. The game is on!
Terms such as hooker, loose forward, sin bin and foul play are bandied about, as well as pass, up and under, try, tight head and touch. The terminology smacks of a bad porn movie and causes my eyebrows to rise.
The ball is kicked high in one direction and the players tear off down the field after it. It is caught by a member of the other team and suddenly the players change course as it is kicked in the other direction. The kicker takes chase dodging through the other players after the ball (I am given to understand that this is so that all the players whom the ball has passed after it has been kicked, and who were thus "out of touch", would be put back "into touch" as he passes them). I am out of touch myself by this stage. My mind drifts a little. Thirty men with powerful physiques parade, run, sweat, grapple and grab. Thirty pairs of lovely legs fill the screen. Thirty men at the top of their game and a few on the sidelines cheering them on - not to mention the 70,000 strong crowd!
They traverse the field back and forth, chasing and chasing after the ball. I admire the legs and completely lose track of the game. Some players lie on the field holding various parts of their bodies and grimacing. For the most part these are all superficial injuries, or so I am told, designed to slow down the game and also to allow the coaches to give instructions to the players. A little ice, a little magic water and they're back on their feet and raring to go. At other times, however, injuries are serious and players are led from the field bleeding, concussed, with broken limbs and even, at times, unconscious on stretchers. After forty minutes the players take a ten minute break (during which most spectators top up their drinks and take a much needed bathroom break, even those watching on television at home). And then for the next forty minutes the game continues much as it did before.
The crowds cheer, shout jeer and boo. Fans voice their opinions about the referee and even the players argue with and threaten the referee. Spectators become hot under the collar as they shout at the referee, all of which, of course, goes unheard, in a stadium of 40,000 to 70,000 spectators. Each time the referee blows the whistle for one of the teams he becomes the object of hatred and abuse of the fans of that team, and then their darling when he admonishes the opposition.
When the whistle blows and the game is over, men will usually spend the aftermath analyzing the game, going over the play blow by blow, criticizing each decision by the ref, every move by the players. Somehow the fact that they were not good enough to be there playing themselves simply escapes them.
Sport Sport Sport
I have to admit that I love watching sport. I admit too that I love participating in sport, and when it comes to the use of my television set, I will trade in a sitcom any day for a sports show. I have to go on further and admit that, despite that I find it highly entertaining, I cannot always see the point of a game or an event - but then perhaps it is just that, there is not supposed to be any profound meaning to be drawn, there is nothing deep and meaningful to be found - it is entertainment for the pure and simple purpose of it. Of course, zealous and, well fanatical, fans often cannot see this, but that's another matter altogether, the fact that they cannot see that sport is sport for the enjoyment and entertainment of it, and not an excuse to run riot in the streets when your team loses, destroying both property and fans from the opposing team. But what is the point of the hammer throw, the high jump and for that matter the rugby and football game? What is the point of being able to claim the right to being the fastest person in the world, and is it not like all instances of competition where there is always the possibility that someone better, faster, stronger, prettier, may exist but has just not and perhaps never will be discovered because said person never thought to even participate in any way whatsoever?
But I think more than the actual sport is the sports quirks which I find highly entertaining. The scratching, the sniffing, the pre-game rituals, the post game prayers, the customs, the routines. And then the during-play habits which have become the norm. For instance, I have noticed that baseball players are renowned for spitting, actually that's pretty much a trait across the board, athletes, footballers, boxers, rugby players, and these days even spitting as a sport! Is this a nervous thing? Whatever it may be it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I have, however, noticed spitting more and more in baseball games. It's a worrying thought that all that spitting could be detrimental as the batter takes off on the run and slips on the globules of gob deposited in his path by someone else. And I shudder as I see a player sliding into home base, into a puddle of spit, left there by those who came before him. A spittoon would not go amiss on the baseball field as part of the "essential equipment" for play. I was green around the gils.
I guess what I want to say is that the fact that I am female does not mean that I would rather be in the kitchen, nor does it mean that I am a girly-girl when it comes to understanding sport, although there are some matters, like the off-side rule, which I admit I will never fully grasp, despite numerous, detailed explanations and great patience displayed from those with a Y-chromosome. I have thus resigned myself to the fact that this is the universe's way in which it distinguishes men and women I should just accept it and live with it. Of course this does, however, mean that I have to ask each and every time I watch a sport where the off-side rule applies - but I am willing to risk annoying members of the male species - and I am quite sure that secretly they love being able to lord it over us that they do indeed understand the off-side rule and many of the other more obscure rules ever present in sport.
At the end of the day, be it Wimbledon, the Tour de France, the PGA tour, table tennis, rowing, racing (of any kind) - just about every sport on offer - these days I seem to be having great difficulty fitting all my sports viewing into a 24-hour day. If anyone has any suggestions how to maximize my viewing, I’d be happy to hear the suggestions.
