Sports for Artists

My exposure to sports has been rather limited.  I used to watch hockey with my dad, cheering whenever the Montreal Canadiens got a goal… and then I learned to get out of my infant seat and I didn’t have to watch anymore.  My best friend and her son are into sports, so I’ll sometimes bring my knitting and sit on the sidelines to watch my pseudo-nephew run up and down a soccer field like a crazed bug; I like to make mental images of my friend clinging to the edge of her seat and muttering scatological obscenities when a bunch of pre-adolescent boys miss a chance at a goal, and then I describe the images to her later over a large glass of wine.  Other than that, I try to avoid sports.  They smell bad.

If I must do sports, I’ve found a way to enjoy them.  Montreal Mystique has this great little page called “Musings“.  Read at first out of obligation but now voluntarily, the sports parts are okay (really like the one-liners) but I live for the “intermissions”.   Being a good mother, I once took my kids to a baseball game at the Skydome (yes, it was still “the Skydome”) and we all agreed that intermission was the most entertaining part.   If Homme de Sept-Iles would just write about intermission all the time, I could honestly say “I like sports”.

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