Those of you who follow SEC football may have noticed that my home state's own Arkansas Razorbacks are having a pretty good season. The Hogs are always big news around here, but this season, it seems they're all I hear about. The world shuts down on Saturdays, while the entire population of the state sits, transfixed, in front of the television. The air is thick with anticipation as the Hogs continue their glorious winning streak.
This presents a problem for me. Don't tell anyone, but...I don't care.
Now, before you go hyperventilating, let me say that I have nothing against the Hogs. I'm all for state pride. I much prefer their regal red uniforms to the unsophisticated, ahem, neon orange worn by other teams who shall remain nameless. I quite enjoy the snappy Razorback Fight Song. I even get a kick out of the whole Woooooo Pig Sooooie thing. But I cannot, for the life of me, make myself care about football. Or any other sport, for that matter.
Since junior high school, I’ve struggled to understand why I’m not like everyone else. But a few weeks ago, I discovered a clue. A window into my psyche. I heard about a study in which researchers tracked the eye-movements of people with autism as they watched movies. People with autism, it turned out, don’t seem to follow the plot of the movie with their eyes. They don’t focus on characters faces. They don’t focus on objects to which the characters refer. Their eyes dart around the screen in completely different patterns than people without autism.
Aha! I thought. Now I understand! I don’t track the action in a sporting event in the same way other people do! Even when I try to focus on the game, I lose track of the ball, become distracted by people in the crowd, or have trouble interpreting important plays. It’s not that I intentionally hate sports, I’m just sports autistic.
If you, too, struggle to enjoy sporting events, take this diagnostic quiz to determine whether you might suffer from sports autism:
1. Do you find watching a televised sporting event about as exciting as staring at a blank wall?
2. During a post-game discussion of an important play, have you ever remarked, “was that before or after the band played?”
3. At sporting events where you personally know the players, do you find it difficult to recall friends’ jersey numbers, yet remember what outfits the majority of the members of the crowd wore?
4. Are you able to track the movements of the hot-dog man but unable to determine how the ball got way over there?
5. When sitting near the foul line at a baseball game, do other members of your party fear for your safety and repeatedly caution you to duck?
If you answered yes to three or more of these questions, you may be sports autistic. There is no known cure for sports autism at present. However, as awareness is raised, so too, is hope.
Has your family been touched by sports autism? Share your story. Compulsive Analysis is here to provide support.
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3 comments:
I love sporting events for the fabulous people watching opportunities they provide. I do alright with watching the game, which is to say I can usually halfway understand what's going on and I can be excited the last crucial seconds if need be. But really, it's what's going on in the stands that I'm really focusing on. 'Did she really wear those 3-inch stilettos with that cocktail dress to a football game?' 'Aw, that kid's cute. She wants to be a cheerleader!' 'If that idiot yells something stupid one more time I'm going to personally go over there and knock him in his head!'
sometimes my hubby will accidentally stop on a channel that is featuring a football game (which is most of the channels on regular cable these days), and I'll say "What are you doing?" Neither of us get into sports (I thank God for sending me a husband that doesn't obsess over football). Now, that being said, we do enjoy a real live game every once in a while. Particularly baseball. I understand baseball and my hubby used to play, so we can kind of get into that. I really enjoy mimicking the "Ice cold BEER. Ice cold, Ice COLD. ICE cold beer." And why do the "ushers" who help you find your seat stand at the top of each stairs/aisle most of the game, but then in between innings they come down to the bottom of each aisle by the field. It's like they're all programmed robots. Maybe that's only at the Redbirds games.
I have few post-game memories but I think that has more to do with the adult beverages imbibed throughout.
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