*****To Clarify: Guest Post by The Husband. I do not watch sports. Xo, Suniverse.
At long last, it's almost here. That magical season which brings joy to all corners of the map. Within a few short days, college and professional football return to make weekends meaningful again. Baseball pennant races and playoffs will soon give us perfectly justifiable reasons to stay up into the wee hours of the morning and avoid family members and loved ones for hours on end. Oh Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy, Hockey season is nearly here. God, I've missed you all so much this summer. Life is meaningless without you.
I think the best part of being the only person who enjoys watching sports in my household is the fact that no one gets why I'm a stark raving lunatic about some trivial technicality that occurred in an insignificant game. Oh sure, they can recognize what type of sport I'm watching in most instances but they don't appreciate, understand, or care about the minutiae of each player, stratagem, or arcane rule. They'll never raise a cheer to their favorite squads as they perform feats of derring-do on the field of battle because...well...because they don't have favorite teams. And sadly, they'll never be inconsolably pissed-off about something completely beyond their control which lacks any artistic substance or social relevance and has no significant impact whatsoever on their daily lives.