Why do Other men watch sport?

When I was in school I played every sport under the sun and can remember idolising the Springbok Cricket Team. I begged my grandfather to take me to cricket games at Newlands and when we went I ran around the edge of the field collecting autographs of my heroes. When I couldn’t get to the stadium I was glued to the TV, I cried when we lost and celebrated when we won.

I remember the Christmas of 1994 so clearly: It was the year I was given my first golf club, I remember looking at it mysteriously wrapped up under the tree and could not be contained when I discovered it was for me. I became obsessed. I practiced every single day and watched every major tournament on TV. I watched because I wanted to be like them.

So why do other men watch sport? What makes men who have never even stepped onto a rugby field go ballistic in a bar with Blue Bulls sticking out of their head?

We have been wired from the days of battle to cheer for the winning team.  Long ago, battles were a matter of life and death, with "our guys" having a serious interest in winning. If "our guys" lost, generally the men were killed and the town looted. If "our guys" were the winners, they got to do the looting and killing. Back then it was all participation sports. Everybody played, and everybody had a serious interest in the outcome. Nowadays we have focused this primal urge into team sports.

We have a nonstop supply of sport beamed across the world and if we feel the need we can watch sport 24 hours a day, it’s kind of like being plugged into a sports drip that feeds us with a drug that allows us to live our lives through others, (unless we are winning at our own lives of course.) We all know the sports fanatics in the office, they are the ones who come in grinning and throwing around comments and collecting cash from their colleagues or swearing non stop depending on which way the game went in which case it was always the referees fault!

Despite what women think we men are a lot more sophisticated than simply barbarians wired from the days of gladiator warfare. There is a part of us who aspires to be in “the zone.” The majority of us are hopeless at sport and we admire the way an athlete can pull off astonishing physical achievements while under incredible pressure. I will take golf for example: For anyone who has stepped onto the first tee knows how his palms become sweaty and his back seizes up. Now imagine playing the same shot with 15 million people watching and $ 3 million in the balance. It is no wander sportsmen are paid such ludicrous amounts of cash – they do what we only dream about. They inspire us to reach our potential. Tiger Woods represents a part of all of us because he has such complete control over his mind, body and emotions (when he is on the golf course) and he wouldn’t have achieved what he has without an audience. It is because of the audience that he is paid billions of dollars, so it is a two way street.

When I watch rugby I don’t actually watch – I spend most of the time pretending to know what is going on and most importantly – pretending to care! I scream like a madman and always root for the wrong team and I ask myself why? Why bother? It is because it makes men feel a part of men, we like to scream at the TV and pretend that we know more than the referee because it offers us an escape. It is the ultimate escape because we didn’t have to do it on our own, we are all escaping together and it feels good. It releases dopamine in our sophisticated brains while we drink sophisticated beers out of green bottles.