My wife and I acquired a slightly unfortunate label from almost everyone that knows us. We belong to a distinguished group commonly referred to as the “unfashionably late”. This (to my utter disgust) transcends everyday meetings, business lunches, parties and in fact most gatherings (social and otherwise). Nobody enjoys missing a kick-off, first pitch or the first ball bowled and I’m certainly no exception, but I have also found myself on the business end of a ticking clock come game day. Mostly because of last minute logistical nightmares that include forgetting to buy alcoholic beverages before hand, finding your proposed attire (read Province, Stormers or Bok jersey) for the outing amongst the dirty washing and my all time favourite – not being able to find the keys, which you know for a fact you saw not five minutes earlier.

It would be the understatement of the century to say that these things annoy me, but I’ve learnt to deal with them in my own way. During such times of mad rushing to avoid missing the start of a game, I do find it extremely interesting to look at the people that we pass on the way to our destination. These individuals who are clearly as late for the game as I am, but who do not seem to be in any hurry. Morne Steyn can have the ball in his hands and be signaling his forwards for the kick-off and these okes could not be less fazed. So totally immersed am I in my quest of making the kick-off deadline, that it did not for a second occur to me that these people just might not be at all interested in the ensuing game! When my wife (who naturally doesn’t share my obsession) pointed this out to me one haste-filled afternoon, I was astonished to say the least.

My state of disbelief was so severe (all five minutes thereof) that I almost felt liberated when a sudden sensation of utter relief swept over me. I was abruptly consumed by the notion that these poor bastards were far worse off than I, in fact I was convinced that they must’ve done something to deserve this cruel and unusual punishment. Once more my world was shattered with an unsuspecting (Dale Steyn-like) bouncer from my wife, who has now firmly made it her mission to mess with my head. “You’re such a sad, sad little man”, came the first verbal onslaught. “Those guys are not in any hurry to watch the game, because they’d rather spend time with their wives” was the cool, calm and collected second line of fire. She now had me on the ropes and was fully prepared to plant the TKO. “For your information, they don’t even know that there’s a game on today” and with that I was beaten down and not looking to get up any time soon.

Could she be right? Were there men out there who would rather walk their dogs than watch sport? Surely she’s making this up. Or was there a remote possibility that these men exist and I’ve just never bothered to socialize with them? Then again, where would I find such individuals? I don’t frequent art exhibitions or gala openings and I do not know how to initiate small talk without the mention of sport. I could therefor not conceive of the scenario where I would regularly interact with the fore mentioned males.

So, if you can’t meet men like the ones my wife seem to admire so much and the chances of me becoming such a gem of a guy are slim to none, what can we as sport junkies do to measure up? I suppose I would be correct in assuming that there seems to be some merit and heaps of rewards for the man who can simulate disinterestedness before/during or after a significant sporting encounter. I guess discussing trivial issues, while all the time thinking about the mega importance of the “away win” can be achieved with some effort. BUT this would entail forced multi-tasking, and I’m not even able to do it willingly, so that’s me stuffed!!

However it would then only seem logical for us brothers to band together and swap strategies on how a level of supposed despondency could be achieved. That, my friends is how most brilliant hypothesis materializes – with a firmly established end-result in mind. Rome wasn’t built in a day though and for this idea to take form, we’ll have to brain storm something fiercely, but that’s for another day, besides there’s a game about to start.

Good to go lads.

A. Waldeck

Pic: inmagine.com