When people ask me what my favorite sports are to watch or play, I usually pause—not because I don’t have an answer, but because the real answer makes some people uncomfortable.
I’ve come to see modern professional sports less as competition and more as a very effective way to occupy the masses. It’s hard not to notice the parallels to ancient Rome. The gladiators weren’t just entertainment; they were a tool. Bread, spectacle, emotion, loyalty to colors and teams—anything to keep people distracted, invested, and arguing among themselves instead of paying attention to what actually mattered. Fast forward a couple thousand years and the uniforms are different, the arenas are bigger, the technology is slicker, but the concept feels eerily familiar.
What really cemented me against professional team sports was the full embrace of legalized sports betting. Once gambling became not just accepted but promoted—wrapped into broadcasts, apps, pregame shows, and now even futures betting—it stripped away any remaining illusion for me. The moment the outcome of games becomes a financial instrument, something changes. It’s no longer about sport; it’s about engagement, addiction, and revenue. Futures betting took it a step further—asking people to emotionally and financially commit months or years in advance, tying their attention and dopamine to a system designed to keep them plugged in. That was the line I couldn’t unsee.
So if I’m honest about what I enjoy, it’s not professional sports in the modern sense at all.
I’m drawn to individual, small-scale, and personal physical pursuits—things that are grounding instead of consuming. Walking, light weight training, staying mobile, staying capable. Activities where the goal isn’t to win something external, but to maintain strength, balance, and independence. No crowds, no commentary, no manufactured drama. Just the quiet satisfaction of taking care of your body over time.
If I watch anything, it’s usually for craftsmanship and discipline rather than loyalty to a team. An old boxing match where experience and mental toughness matter. A tennis match where strategy outweighs brute force. An Olympic event where the focus is still on human limits and preparation. Even then, it’s occasional—not something that dictates my schedule or my mood.
What I’ve lost interest in entirely is the circus surrounding modern professional sports—the endless debates, the tribalism, the hero worship, the outrage cycles, the feeling that every season is “historic” and every game is “everything.” Too much noise, too much emotional energy spent on things that don’t actually move anyone’s life forward.
So my answer is simple, even if it sounds unconventional.
I like sports when they make me stronger, calmer, or more grounded.
I step away when they’re used to distract, divide, or keep people occupied.
Once I saw that clearly, professional team sports stopped being entertainment for me—and started looking a lot more like the coliseum.
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