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Why do we love sports? Is it the distraction from the everyday grind that lulls us to sleep? Is it the fact it clearly defines Good versus Evil, Right versus Wrong, Winning versus Losing?


For each individual the answer is different and unique. Sometimes it cannot be explained. It’s just a feeling, a sense. It pulls you in and tears you up. It makes you jump for joy and sob like a baby.

At times it can seem fictional, a fairy tale. Too good to be true or to harsh to comprehend.
It’s the movie you’ve seen a thousand times yet never has the same ending. Sports are more than individuals playing a game. It’s an escape. It’s a community, a brotherhood, a family. Nothing in society can bring people who share nothing else in common together like sports can. It fixes much of what is wrong with the 21st century world, at least for a few hours on any given day.


So what do we do, how do we feel when this is taken from us? The bombing at the Boston Marathon yesterday shed light once again on just how insignificant and important sports are. Contradictory statement you say? So?. In a time of tragedy we are all faced with the task of thinking about what are the most unimportant things in our life. To even the biggest the sports fan, like myself, sports falls very far down on the list. That’s the insignificant part. But how we deal with tragedy, how we escape and cope is where sports glaring importance beams through.

What would a Celtics improbable run through the playoffs due for the city now? The Red Sox catching fire and leading the AL East all summer? Would it take away the pain or make us forget what happened? No. That feat is impossible. But much like the Yankees playoff run shortly after 9/11, or the Saints emergence after Hurricane Katrina, it can serve as a distraction. A much needed escape, if only for a few hours on a given day.

Kevin Garnett, Ray Allen, Paul Pierce

Sometimes we forget that sports and life are forever intertwined. They are one in the same. Sports hurt can be shaken off with the eternal hope of next year, next time, next season. The hurt suffered by the innocent people in Boston can’t be simply shaken off. That is ultimately what separates sports from reality.

God Speed Boston


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