I have recently diagnosed myself with a rare, (I don’t know actually, maybe it isn’t all that rare) seldom discussed illness. Probably incurable. Flares up around this time of year (actually there are different varieties that flare up at different times of the year.)
What is it, you ask? (Thank you for your concern.)
Nope, not allergies.
I have Sports Attention Deficit Disorder. That’s SADD for short.
I cannot watch sports. Like literally can not.
My eyes won’t focus. My brain won’t process. I hear cheering and I have no idea what it means.
This time of year it takes the form of Baseball Attention Deficit Disorder (that’s BADD, for those of you keeping track).
And it is, indeed, bad.
My son plays the game. I adore that child. Everything he does is fascinating to me. Until he puts on a uniform and picks up a ball. Then I am out.
My darling son sits in the dugout. I watch butterflies go by. I chat with my friend. I check Facebook. I play Frisbee with my daughter. I complain about the weather.
I completely forget that I am supposed to be watching baseball.
People cheer. I wonder why. Then I hear – GO TATER! (actually they say his real name…) and I think, “I know a kid named Tater, he’s cute.” And then I remember – BASEBALL!
I try to watch him bat. I watch the ball go toward him. I watch him swing. If he swings more than twice my mind begins to wander.
Butterflies. Flowers. Cold/Hot/Damp. Chat. Frisbee.
Wait a minute – what is he doing standing on first base? OH NO…I missed the hit. I cheer – completely apropos of nothing. Yay!!
The next kid is up. My child will run soon. But not yet…
Butterflies. Thirsty. Chat. Facebook. Is that rain?
Oh right, baseball.
Where is my kid anyway? Oh rats…sitting in the dugout again. I missed it.
What did he do? Was it good? Do I console or congratulate?
He runs over – “Did you SEE!?!?”
No. No I did not. But I tell him he was great (I am sure he was) and that I am proud (of course). And I vow that the next time up I will do better.
Yet I don’t. It is not possible. Eyes and brain will not cooperate.
And don’t even get me started on watching him man the outfield. Even HE can’t pay attention during that part.
My condition sadly extends beyond Little League. If you tell me something about some Philadelphia team, I am generally surprised that it is the season for that sport. No, I do not know how they are doing. No, I do not know whether it is preseason or playoffs.
I have friends and family who are die hard sports fans. They seem to not understand the extent of my affliction.
Do I watch the Super Bowl? Nope. I like the snacks though.
Professional baseball? Nope. But the beer and the mascots are fun.
Professional basketball? Not at all. Really can’t think of anything fun about that.
At most live events I end up watching the cheerleaders and forgetting that they are, in fact, cheering for a game.
I believe that this is proof that cheerleading is not a sport. My eyes and brain are able to cooperate to watch an entire routine.
Sorry ladies, I wish I could support your arguments that it is just as athletic and demanding as any other sport. That may be true, but you just don’t have the relentless monotony factor going for you.
And for that I thank you.