In small townships in the rural South in Arkansas in the late 1940s and early 1950s, towns had baseball teams that played games on Sunday afternoon after Church. My Dad, a physician, was the manager of the team and exposed my younger brother and I to sit for hours and hours watching grown men in uniforms spitting and rubbing their genitals. My brother and I were so exploited by our Dad about sporting games that today, 2016, I hate sporting games of all kind.
There was a family in my hometown of Tyronza, Arkansas, who had worked for the federal government in European countries and allowed their daughter to attend school in England as exchange student. The girl was nearing puberty, and as she returned home after 3 years studying in London, everyone was surprised that she spoke with a strong English accent. It was later learned that once a child reaches puberty, he or she will retain the speaking language of their location.
My brother and I do not watch sports on TV or listen to sport broadcasts on the radio because of our early exposure to sports forced on us as children. I enjoy watching sports executed, but I do not know the cites that make-up the American and National Leagues. I have never read the sports page in a newspaper in 70 years nor would I travel across town two hours early to sit in traffic waiting for the sports arena to open for the planned game of sports. My brother and I are much like the exchange-student who loss her American speaking voice never to return.
It is a shame I feel this way about sports, but I cannot make myself enjoy sports on TV and radio. I lie to people when they ask me questions about sporting events in my current hometown so I will not appear as a sissy or worse.
I live in Houston, Texas, now, and in January, the Super Bowl number L1(51)comes to Houston, and the city is spending 3 million dollars to make Houston ready to receive 84,000 people within the city limits. I am going to try as hard as I can to enjoy the Super Bowl regardless of my true intenions about sports.