I realised something this weekend. Or perhaps re-affirmed is more apt, since I already knew this thing, but had been doubting myself of late. I really really don't like sports.
Despite my telling my friends this on multiple occasions, they seemed to believe that I had somehow not experienced sport in the right way and therefore convinced me that I should try it one more time by coming along to the South Korea vs. Uraguay World Cup game on Saturday night. This was the first World Cup game that I would watch from start to finish, and hopefully the last.
Patrick and I decided early on that we would try to avoid the crowds when we went to watch the game, and thus made our way to Pearl Jam, a smaller pub that was likely to be full of Koreans, but less full than anywhere else. But, on our way to Pearl Jam we happened past Buzz Bar where we bumped into a group of my friends, and Patrick convinced me that it would be a good idea to watch with them. And so we made our way into a crowded Buzz Bar, and found some spots in the crowded room on the slightly raised platform. Bar stools or couches would have been preferable, but all of those were full, so we made do. We could see the projector, we were in good spirits, everything was good.
The game started and the vibe was great - a Korean had found himself a cheaper, plastic replica of the cheap, plastic vuvuzelas and would occasionally blow it to the tune of "Dae han min guk" (Korea), which was followed by choruses of the tune itself. Alcohol was flowing freely (though I decided not to partake in this, not wanting to be nursing a giant hangover on a Sunday morning). People were chattering away happily. The first half of the game went by in a happy blur. I wasn't watching too much of the soccer but was rather happily chatting away, sipping on a drink, joining in with the singing and occasionally glancing at the screen. And then the first half ended. The break was spent trying to hold peoples places and watching their drinks while they ran to the store to get cigarettes or made their way to the crowded bar for more alcohol.
The second half started and more people had arrived. I had been pushed further down the platform and was stuck sitting behind a group of people in chairs. I could see between them if they were sitting down and sitting still, but of course that was the minority of the time. Not that it bothered me too much, of course, since I was too preoccupied with how uncomfortably squashed I had become and trying to have conversations over the shouting fans. People started to become pushy and were getting riled up with excitement over the game, and I was not enjoying it. I looked at the screen. Only 7 minutes had passed. The second half of the game dragged by as I counted down the minutes until it would end. Yes, I wanted Korea to win, but I didn't want to be in a room hearing about it. But, as you know, Korea didn't win. And after the game I made a quick escape before someone could talk me into staying for the America game.
And so it dawned on me in the taxi on my way home that I am not made for sports. Though I occasionally enjoy playing one or two, I have never enjoyed watching them. One exception to this rule is Grand Prix, and even that isn't so much enjoyment as it is tolerance. I can go and watch a race and have a good time, but it is not something that I generally go out of my way to do. If I enjoyed it, surely I would have made some kind of effort to watch a race out here. But that hasn't been the case. When Grant comes, I am sure that we will watch many a race together. But until then, I can't really be too bothered to find a pub that is playing it on a Sunday afternoon, and quiz seems far more entertaining on a Sunday evening.
Despite my telling my friends this on multiple occasions, they seemed to believe that I had somehow not experienced sport in the right way and therefore convinced me that I should try it one more time by coming along to the South Korea vs. Uraguay World Cup game on Saturday night. This was the first World Cup game that I would watch from start to finish, and hopefully the last.
Patrick and I decided early on that we would try to avoid the crowds when we went to watch the game, and thus made our way to Pearl Jam, a smaller pub that was likely to be full of Koreans, but less full than anywhere else. But, on our way to Pearl Jam we happened past Buzz Bar where we bumped into a group of my friends, and Patrick convinced me that it would be a good idea to watch with them. And so we made our way into a crowded Buzz Bar, and found some spots in the crowded room on the slightly raised platform. Bar stools or couches would have been preferable, but all of those were full, so we made do. We could see the projector, we were in good spirits, everything was good.
The game started and the vibe was great - a Korean had found himself a cheaper, plastic replica of the cheap, plastic vuvuzelas and would occasionally blow it to the tune of "Dae han min guk" (Korea), which was followed by choruses of the tune itself. Alcohol was flowing freely (though I decided not to partake in this, not wanting to be nursing a giant hangover on a Sunday morning). People were chattering away happily. The first half of the game went by in a happy blur. I wasn't watching too much of the soccer but was rather happily chatting away, sipping on a drink, joining in with the singing and occasionally glancing at the screen. And then the first half ended. The break was spent trying to hold peoples places and watching their drinks while they ran to the store to get cigarettes or made their way to the crowded bar for more alcohol.
The second half started and more people had arrived. I had been pushed further down the platform and was stuck sitting behind a group of people in chairs. I could see between them if they were sitting down and sitting still, but of course that was the minority of the time. Not that it bothered me too much, of course, since I was too preoccupied with how uncomfortably squashed I had become and trying to have conversations over the shouting fans. People started to become pushy and were getting riled up with excitement over the game, and I was not enjoying it. I looked at the screen. Only 7 minutes had passed. The second half of the game dragged by as I counted down the minutes until it would end. Yes, I wanted Korea to win, but I didn't want to be in a room hearing about it. But, as you know, Korea didn't win. And after the game I made a quick escape before someone could talk me into staying for the America game.
And so it dawned on me in the taxi on my way home that I am not made for sports. Though I occasionally enjoy playing one or two, I have never enjoyed watching them. One exception to this rule is Grand Prix, and even that isn't so much enjoyment as it is tolerance. I can go and watch a race and have a good time, but it is not something that I generally go out of my way to do. If I enjoyed it, surely I would have made some kind of effort to watch a race out here. But that hasn't been the case. When Grant comes, I am sure that we will watch many a race together. But until then, I can't really be too bothered to find a pub that is playing it on a Sunday afternoon, and quiz seems far more entertaining on a Sunday evening.
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