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SPORTS AND POLITICS IN THE MIXER
Why I Hate My Homeland Winning at Sports
And how I became a diehard supporter of Team Abe
It’s been a long time since I genuinely cared about competitive sports. I have now settled into a curmudgeonly middle age in which I express that tired, old disregard for 22 adults [replace with alternative number to dismiss other sports] running after a leather spheroid [likewise replace with alternative geometrical form and/or high-tech synthetic material].
Or rather, I still admire and can enjoy, in highlights-reel isolation, the athletic prowess of the sportspeople involved, and value sports as a worthwhile endeavour for personal fitness and fulfilment. My disdain is directed instead at the spectators who cheer, holler, bawl and weep at the on-pitch incidents and above all the outcome of 90 or however many minutes of vicarious ball-chasing. Or in the case of the national summer season sport of my home country, England, 6 hours and more every day for 5 days in a row.
I really don’t care if France beat or lose to Argentina in a World Cup final, if Australia or India claim the Test Cricket Championship. And were I to be consistent, I shouldn’t be bothered either about the outcome of an England v Italy fixture, or Great Britain’s place in the Olympic medals table.
