You’ll never guess what I did this past Saturday. I don’t know why I did it. Well, I was actually forced, but what I mean is I’m not sure why anyone would care enough to force someone to do such a thing. In case you’re wondering, what I did was attend a Mississippi State cross country competition, or whatever they’re called.
Now, I know that most of you have never been to a cross country match, or whatever. And for those of you who have or, God forbid, have actually participated in one, please excuse the frankness of the terms I will soon use. I feel compelled to speak my mind here.
The absolute fact here is this: Cross country is very boring. I’m not entirely sure that it’s even a sport. My first thought upon observing a cross country contest, or whatever, has always been something to the effect of “Um . where’s the ball?” There has to be a ball for it to be a sport, right? That’s one of the rules for deciding if something is a sport, if I remember correctly. Otherwise, why even run? What’s the big rush? You don’t have anything to chase after, so you might as well walk as far as I’m concerned.
Just before it started, I found myself speaking with the coaches of the cross country team. I tried to inquire, “What’s the point of all this? Why would anyone want to do this?” But they wouldn’t give a straight answer. They would only reply with vague equivocations, repeating many times over that I needed to get my head in the right place, whatever that means.
When the race began, I decided to run around the course in order to keep track of the runners. I figured that if I kept a close eye on the intricacies and tactics of a five-mile race, perhaps I would find some meaning or purpose in it.
Nope. As I watched these drone-like “athletes” run monotonous loop after monotonous loop, I just kept wondering, “Is this all there is to it? What are you running from, runners? Is it your past? Did you never excel in any of the real sports?”
The cross country game, or whatever, kept going and going. I nearly lost interest entirely around the fourth mile, but I decided to stay focused. I figured, “I should keep an open mind here. Maybe things will get interesting at the end of the race?”
Nope. This cross country tournament, or whatever, had me not only desperately gasping for air, but also for excitement. I was right there at the finish, and it was just as boring as ever. Runners crossed the finish line and stumbled through the finish chute, but what had they actually finished?
As far as I could tell, the guy on the four-wheeler that guided the runners through the course had gone just as far as the runners. And he wasn’t even out of breath. Is this not a testament to the silliness and uselessness of this “sport”?
Listen, I try to be a positive guy. I try to give everything and everybody a fair shot. But this cross country business is worthless. When I watch sports, I want to see athletes. I want to see dudes hitting dudes at high speeds, like some damn particles in the Hadron collider. That’s real to me, and for sure there’s none of that in cross country.
Anyway, I hate to sound like such a pessimist. It’s possible that I’m the one at fault here. Maybe I just haven’t seen enough cross country to really “get it.” Maybe I’ll feel differently after the team competes again, at the Notre Dame Invitational on Oct. 3. If I change my mind after that one, then you’ll be the first to know.
Robert Scribner is a graduate student majoring in business administration. He can be contacted at [email protected].