We Like Sportz

If you have to refer to yourself as an athlete, you’d better make for damn sure that your sport of choice is actually a sport. (Sorry, skee ball “champions.”)

What is a sport? According to the dictionary in my head, a sport is any type of competitive physical activity that requires some amount of skill and/or expertise. Need examples? Of course you do:

  • Football = sport
  • Basketball = sport
  • Tennis = sport (even though it is often played while wearing a skirt)
  • Golf = not a sport (because driving a golf cart and drinking are not sports)
  • Baseball = sport (even though there are only 32.7 combined seconds of actual action in the entirety of a baseball game, it takes some skill to hit and/or throw a ball)
  • Competitive eating = sport (it takes training and is very physically demanding)
  • Spelling bees = not a sport (that’s mental activity, not physical, and it should not be on ESPN)
  • Running = not a sport (because unless you’re actually running against other people, you’re just some dude who likes sweating and wearing spandex)
  • Race car driving = not a sport (because being a little dude in a hot car and turning left all the time doesn’t qualify)
  • Cheerleading = sport (but I’m only talking about what they do during the games, ifyouknowwhatimean)
  • Darts = not a sport (because no one in the history of the world has ever done it sober)
  • Soccer = sport (even though it mostly just involves kicking other people in the shins)
  • Poker = not a sport (and if you think it is, I will throatpunch you)
  • Pool = sport (arguably more mental than physical, but I’ve had to contort myself into some odd yoga-like poses to get the balls where they need to go, so it totally counts)
  • Video games = not a sport (the only physical activity is moving the Doritos from bag to face)
  • Bowling = sometimes a sport (let’s be honest; it depends on who’s doing it)

So go out there and be an athlete, instead of just an athletic supporter.

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I Won’t Bake Chocolate Chip Cookies

If you have to be good at something, be a big fish in a small pond. Instead of trying to create a large impact, make a unique impact.

What’s the best kind of beer?

Basic garbage humans will sing the praises of Bud Light, 30-somethings get nostalgic when they see a Corona, poor and/or ugly people claim to like Coors Light, Europhiles are into Guinness, and every man on the brink of a midlife crisis is in love with one craft beer or another. Oh, and my mother drinks O’Doul’s because she says she enjoys the taste.

The point here is that people have different preferences, whether they’re weird (Corona), gross (Bud Light), or wrong (O’Doul’s). The same holds true for chocolate chip cookies. People prefer different types of chocolate chip cookies:  weird (with pecans), gross (with dark chocolate chips), or wrong (crunchy cookies).

Trying to make a universally loved chocolate chip cookie is an exercise in futility. The mere fact that people have all of these silly preferences means that you can’t make everyone happy all the time.

You want a cookie? I’ll bake you a batch of soft, melt-in-your-mouth, sea salt caramel cookies. I’ll create some blueberry white chocolate oatmeal cookies. I’ll make some butterscotch cookies you’ll never forget.

I’m not saying that unique = awesome, but I will say that giving people something unexpected rather than just giving them your version of the “best” of something ordinary may just pay big dividends in the long run.