Let me just give you a brief sampling, if you don’t mind: Christy Mathewson, in 1905 (at the age of 27, which isn’t important, but, you know, just thought I would throw it in there) got the most consecutive scoreless innings in a World Series, that Washington and Lee were the 2007 NCAA Division III national champions (that’s right, I got my college basketball covered), that Bobby Orr won a record eight Norris Trophies for his work as a defenseman for the Boston Bruins (oh, and that was from 1967-1975)…I could go on and on if you want. I got beach volleyball, World Cup, even statistics from the Homestead Grays…they’re all up here in this little noggin of mine.
I only mention all of this because I’m appalled by your notion of what constitutes being a fan of sports. “Oh, I have season tickets to the Blackhawks,” blah blah blah. I could watch every Blackhawks game there ever was, and not know a goddamn thing about sports. Do you know who the best major league pitcher was in 1983? Who won the gold in Nagano for the luge? How do you even enjoy a hockey game if you don’t know your curling statistics? God, these posers with their ESPN2 and their sporty paraphernalia. This is why I’ve taken to, oh, what’s the word…liberate?…people from their mindless game-watching. Whenever there are friends sitting around, drinking beer and watching a Red Sox game, I don’t get how they watch in ignorance. They have to know Cinco Ocho (Papelbon, by the way) had a 1.85 ERA with 300 strikeouts, or that Tim Wakefield debuted in 1992 for the Pittsburgh Pirates. That’s the real gold of the game, not the action. Of course, my fun facts distract them from seeing a home run when it happens sometimes, and it’s probably harder for them to hear the announcers, but, hey, that’s what I like to call enhanced sports viewing.
Plus, all my co-workers got their fantasy baseball thing going on, and they just bicker and argue and ridicule each other for this or that decision, and then give goofy excuses for each other and themselves. Ridiculous! RBI this and WHIP that, as if they know what they’re talking about. They’re always one-upping each other with what they know about whom, talking about how they appreciated Elvis Andrus’ talent before he was even a shortstop. I don’t mind it that much, to be honest. Not that much really bugs me, but what really drives me up a wall is when my hipster friends start talking about their music. Ugh. They’re always one-upping each other with what they know about whom, talking about how they appreciated this songwriter before he was even in this band. God, it drives me up a wall. It’s intolerable, having to take part in that kind of conversation.
People always ask, “But what’s the point of memorizing all this stuff?” I don’t know, what’s the point of you being a dick about my lifestyle choices? I’d be so good at bar trivia, at least in the three or four sports questions they throw in there, but I don’t usually go to bar trivia because there’s always a game on. I mean, yeah, sometimes they show them at the bar during trivia, but I’d rather give my full attention and scribble notes if I get a chance. I could rock those categories on Jeopardy, too, but I always have a game DVR’d. Can you blame me? Sometimes a guy has to catch up on his water polo.
