When it is on TV, I usually vacate the room or run away. When it is on TV, I might even cry. But not today or even yesterday.
NASCAR, not considered a sport by me, was in town this weekend, down south in Homestead. And even though I usually hate the activity, this weekend I felt compelled to watch it, even though the championship was all but decided.
On Saturday, the Nationwide series -- the minor league of NASCAR -- wrapped up its season with Clint Bowyer as its champion. But that was not why I watched (sort of, you can't really watch 300 miles of cars going in circles again and again). The CEO of Camping World, an alum of Columbus High School, my high school, altered his car in order to pay tribute to Columbus' 50th anniversary.
So for about an hour I looked patiently for the blue #33 car with a Chicago Bears-style "C" on the hood. And although, driver Ryan Newman failed to win, it was still exciting to see my high school represented on a national stage.
Today, there was no personal interest for me, but some for my dad. You see, my dad is a Tony Stewart fan, and with about 15 laps to go, he was running low on fuel and still driving his brains out. It was exciting, until Stewart pitted and dropped back to 15th. Then a new excitement ensued. Carl Edwards, still mathematically in it to win the title, was low on fuel and now had a 13 second lead. So he coasted on turns and straightaways until the finish line when he exclaimed "That's it! We're out of fuel!"
So for one day, just one, hopefully just one, NASCAR was semi-exciting. But still not a sport.