I’ll admit it, I’m scared of commitment. I haven’t been pinned down since 2003. The last real relationship I had ended in broken boomboxes, corked bats and a complete lack of respect on both sides.
Sure there have been trysts with sexy prospects and young up-and-comers, but nothing has had the connection I’m looking for.
It’s all changing though. A new man has entered my life to fill a void that I feared would never be filled.
Sports touch me at a very personal level. I was that kid that cried because his team (Mexico) lost to the hated Americans in 2002 and to the Argentines in 2006.
Somewhat paradoxically, however, I’m not that big a fan of the players themselves. Sure, I root for them to do their best, but only because it helps my team, not because of them, per se.
Sammy Sosa is the last player I have “put on my wall.” The last one who I would root for no matter if he was on the Cubs, White Sox or Lansing Lugnuts. That was until I learned that he was a cheater, liar and despicable human being unworthy of my attention.
He’s not unique though. Athletes are selfish creatures that are isolated from humanity and remain out of touch with the real world.
Once in a great while an athlete will remain untouched by egotism and vanity and maintain their kindness. We like to think former Marquette basketball players like Lazar Hayward, Wes Matthews and Jimmy Butler are real people because they were raised in our community and interacted with us, but in the end, we don’t really know.
But, ladies and gentlemen, I have found that special somebody. I am ready to let down my guards and let the world know that I am a fan-boy of Javier “Chicharito” Hernandez. I wear his jersey. I buy his posters. Heck I even built a life-size replica in my apartment out of used gum a la Helga Pataki in “Hey Arnold.”
For those of you unaware, Chicharito is the Mexican soccer player currently plying his trade at the club “Forbes” magazine calls the most valuable in the world: Manchester United. Unlike most Mexican soccer phenoms, this forward not only gets a check from the team, but plays vital minutes during the biggest games, scoring crucial goals (against Chelsea in the first minute of play).
As stated previously though, scoring goals and playing well isn’t enough to merit admiration. Here is a man who is the most revered athlete in the history of Mexico. Men want to be him, children want to be like him and women want to be with him. Heck, the stray dog at the taco stand even stops begging when Chicharito is on. He has a nation at his feet and makes more money in two weeks than I will in 10 years.
Despite his demi-God status, he lives like a simple man. He asked his parents and sister to move in with him to England and pays for them to attend every game. He addresses journalists as sir or miss and barely makes eye contact with them. He doesn’t party into the wee hours or cause stirs by kissing Kate Hudson and Madonna.
He’s human. Don’t believe me? Read this (check out the online version to follow the link).
Look, I’m not trying to get you to love Chicharito. Hate him for all I care, although I doubt that’s possible. But it is refreshing to be able to cheer for a human being, not just an athlete.
Dog killers and women beaters may make splendid quarterbacks, but I’ll take the guy living with his parents any day.
