Geneticists have recently isolated the chromosome, that determines the inclination/interest/semi-obsession towards sports. This breakthrough has enormous social implications, as well raising a number of ethical, philosophical, gambling and sponsorship issues .The chromosome responsible for this conditioning of "mankind" has been designated as SS1 - more commonly known as Sky Sports 1 +. The genome, which is found largely in the male of the species, as well as some other lower primates, controls the area of the brain that stimulates competitiveness, tribalism and verbal intercourse, which mostly,manifests itself during awkward social occasions, or when exposing oneself - conversationally speaking, that is - to strangers who share the same affliction of hormones...
This compulsion, drives grown men to relentlessly chide one another about which "team" he may or may not be "supporting" and throw humorous - friendly fire- aspersions over their general decision making process, based on this one, life consuming, conclusion !
I wonder, if civilization had never invented the simple ball, then perhaps MAN-kind might have evolved along a different socially conditioned pass-time, say perhaps... the weather. Picture the scene, a man standing at the bar of his local watering hole, when he recognizes one of his mates enter the saloon. He waives him over, shouting his name over the noise of the room, and the large flat screen tv - situated centrally and yet inconveniently, to it's passing patrons - which is currently broadcasting the national and regional weather statistics. After the obligatory, back slapping and token exchanges into one another's Status Quo, it's proceeded by the argument of who will get the drinks in first, followed invariably by a temporary lull in their sparring. Suddenly, the man-gene kicks-in like an auto-reflex, " Hey ! what about Stoke city, last night ? Localized floods, thunder & lightning followed by hailstones the size of golf-balls, what a show !" The now, despondent friend, shook his head, " Aye, their well ahead of the annual rainfall this season, they're going to be tough to beat on the precipitation league table this year." His accomplice, contemplating the consequences of his fellow weather watcher's words, and feeling as flat as his beer looked, then claimed, " For sure, not even Michael Fish* can save us now !"
If only science could develop some sort of placebo sport, something that satiates the spirit of competitiveness, whilst at the same time, without all that testosterone posturing and mass hysteria.... oh wait, there already is one...it's called cricket !
* See worst forecasting - 1987 - since weather records began ! -
to be continued
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