“Playing sport is healthy.” “Sports are fun!” “I don’t know what I’d do with my time if it wasn’t for running/ rugby / dancing, blah, blah, blah…” I have heard people say these things for most of my life, but I still don’t get it.
“Playing sport is healthy.” “Sports are fun!” “I don’t know what I’d do with my time if it wasn’t for running/ rugby / dancing, blah, blah, blah…” I have heard people say these things for most of my life, but I still don’t get it.
In fact, I am convinced that I am allergic to sports. Since primary school I have tried to involve myself in athletics (I’m not that fast), netball (despite being one of the tallest shooters in the grade, I was placed on the last team because I missed trials) and hockey (half of the players in my age group were on the provincial team so most of the other kids were neglected and unmotivated).
In Grade 9 high jump finally hammered the nail into the coffin of my sporting career. Not only could my friend Leanne, about a head shorter than me, jump higher than I could, but my legs were so long that I managed to knee myself in the face as I landed on the mat, and so gave myself a black eye. I took the hint and henceforth retired from all sporting activities.
I think my sister also inherited my genetic disposition to sport allergies – when she was young the physical education teacher referred to her as “that crippled blonde child” because she always had bandages, crutches or some excuse as to why she could not participate that week.
And before anyone tells me that physical activities relieve stress and are good old-fashioned fun, I must beg to differ.
Some people genuinely have no interest or desire to play sports (and hence do not find them enjoyable) and as far as stress relief goes – well, I take hot baths and write cathartic columns.
In fact, being forced to watch the rugga makes me feels tense, and not because I’m eager for a particular team to win.
Having said that, I have to make the observation, however, that there is something delightfully homoerotic about rugby.
And I enjoy telling this to burly beer-guzzling, steroid injecting Blue Bulls/ Sharks/ Stormers supporters.
A team of muscular men in very small shorts climbing all over each other to gain possession of a ball? Enough said.
Nowadays I play social tennis about three times a year (with a pinch of Allergex beforehand), but I don’t allow myself to get too carried away with it.
After all, I’m trying to look after myself and have proof that sports are bad for my health.
