Last night, I was overcome by a strange desire to watch basketball instead of doing math. Usually I would choose math as the lesser of these two evils, but in this case math would not involve hot dogs to ingest and drunk sluts to mock.

I have only been to one college sporting event prior to this, that being football, so I pretty much knew that I would just be awkwardly belly flopping into a sea of loud, pushy balls of energy that reek of cheap beer and school spirit.

Still, I went.

I just don't think I received the gene to be school spirited. Though it is an interesting experience to be surrounded by a group of people so intensely involved in something I am completely clueless to.

Being at the game reminded me a lot of going to church when I was little, only the hymns were replaced by periodic outbursts of songs found on the "Jock Jams" soundtrack; the announcers took the place of the priest in their cryptic explanation to the masses of what they saw first hand that we were somewhat blind to; and the blood and body of Christ were nachos and Budweiser at half time. And making out with your sorority sisters is the new shaking hands and wishing peace to your neighbor.

The game also seemed to never end for me, much like a service would go on and on to a child with no concept of religion.

But still, I have always enjoyed being a spectator on that feeling of comeradery which is present in both events. People really seem to care about which guy throws a ball into a hoop the most or what some unknown entity is telling us to do.

It's sort of endearing.

It's neat to check into that world, to make sure it's still there and that I still have an opposite.

<< >>