Politics or sports, we are all here for the thrill of the moment.
Loading Elevenlabs Text to Speech AudioNative Player…
As a live sports spectator, I admit to being guilty of preferring a thrilling finale to the long, grueling struggle that preceded it.
I was reminded of my unacceptable lack of attention Monday night, when the Florida Gators faced the Houston Cougars in the NCAA men’s basketball championship. To the surprise of millions who had been there from the start — waiting for every free throw and foul — the Gators emerged as unexpected and unlikely winners against the Cougars. I watched the comeback along with the rest of the world, but unlike most other viewers, I only started watching when it became obvious that it was a comeback — in the final minutes. You could say I’m like a kid who wants to have chocolate cake before finishing his chicken and broccoli.
I have no doubt that Monday’s improbable finale would have been even more impressive, or heartbreaking, had I experienced it in the context of the entire game, but I confess to having little patience when it comes to watching the monotony of the back-and-forth of any sport. For me, watching the early stages of a game — whether basketball teams trading scores in the second quarter or a football team mounting a long drive right after the kickoff — is like listening to a speech from the Senate floor: Even when it’s someone other than Cory Booker doing the talking, and doing so in less than a full day, I find the business of Congress to have a certain tedious quality. Wake me up when the bill, if any, passes.
In the case of Monday’s game, my apathy may be partly a function of my lack of interest in the competition. If I’d been asked to pick a team before the game, I would have said “none of the above.” I had no personal connection to either Florida or Houston, and as a neutral viewer, I couldn’t think of any reason to care about either team — until that thrilling finish, of course. I’d have been rooting for any team in the throes of a wild comeback — and in this case, that was Florida.
I suffer from this impatience even when following a game in which I theoretically care about the outcome. As I’ve mentioned before in this space, I’ve long watched the struggling Cleveland Browns succumb to their woes, but I rarely watch a game from start to finish. Over the years, I’ve typically tuned into Browns games to provide background noise; like many journalists, I’ve grown accustomed to working to the pleasant hum of some live broadcast. If the Browns are playing unexpectedly well (or especially poorly) in the fourth quarter, I can usually force myself to focus on the balance of the game, but that’s all I need. Last season, for example, I didn’t feel the need to follow the ups and downs of the entertainingly unreliable Browns quarterback Jameis Winston — his unpredictability from the two-minute warning onward was more than sufficient for my purposes.
I realize there is something improper about the way I enjoy the great finish of a game without having spent much time playing the game itself. But isn't there something deeply American about watching only the highlights? My father used to say that the essence of almost any book or film can be summed up in a few lines; the rest, no matter how poetic, is just exposition. I admit that few people would read, say, Chekhov or watch Roberto Rossellini's Journey to Italy with such a utilitarian mindset, but his point seems relevant to sporting events as well: aren't we all looking forward to the thrill of victory or the agony of defeat—that is,
Sourse: theamericanconservative.com
