Football, baseball, hockey. All I hear when I'm at home is "did you see that game?" The different sports teams all blend into one and I get so lost in the rules of the game it doesn't make sense. Why are you kicking a ball around? Don't get me wrong, I love me a bit of Quidditch. It's so simple when we don't have any other sports. And I understand team spirit, but we only have four teams. On top of that, our teams are chosen for us. If you're a Gryffindor, you stand in the crowds yelling "GO GO GRYFFINDOR!" You never hear of a Slytherin student confused on what team to root for. I would think it's difficult for Muggles to choose their teams, with there being so many, but OH NO. These Muggles know their team like it's instinct. People get in bar fights and text-yell over these sports. (My dad has been one of them.) His sport is baseball, I forget the team, which is strange because they're always playing on tv and he has about ten shirts with the mascot plastered on them. I've watched men praying to a sky god for their team to win, and then get ENRAGED when they don't. 

It's a silly concept, sports. I'm probably biased because I never got into them, ergo I don't know what it's like. I do know that the kids who played sports - especially the guys - revolve their entire life around it. They always need to go to practice and want to play the game during our free time in school. Gym class was always the worst. All of the boys show off how far they can throw a ball or how fast they can run. I don't think they realize that no one cares. There will be a lot more on Muggle schools in a later chapter.

I have heard, "Shh Zell the game is on," and, "I need you to be off the tv by six, the game is coming on," so many times that I hear it in my dreams. Millions of Muggles around the world sit in front of a screen to watch these games, wishing they were the ones playing. One year for my dad's birthday, mom got him tickets to a baseball game. They were amazing tickets too apparently. Anyway, dad took his friend Scott to the game. At one point it started raining, but he and Scott didn't get up or even look away from the field. Dad caught a rogue baseball, it's his prized possession. He tells the story five times a week. "There I was, watching Rodney throw a killer curveball. Peters hits it dead on and sprints to the next plate. Scotty and I are on the edge of our seats, and the ball comes in our direction. My reflexes were catlike as time slows down. Suddenly it was just me and the ball. I reach my arm out and catch it, straight out of the air!" He later got it signed by the team members. I think that was the happiest day of his life.