It’s that time of year again.

Among the many bad decisions you are going to make this quarter, you’re hoping that your choice of classes/major isn’t one of them. While we’re all trying to navigate through finals, one eye is still looking ahead to classes next quarter.

And majors. And minors. And even changing majors.

I still don’t know what I want to do—life-wise, that is. And being a sophomore, I’m kind of expected to know at this point what I want to do with the rest of my life, even though my 50-year-old dad tells me he still doesn’t know what he wants to do when he “grows up.”
So I am supposed to figure out what I want to do. I know things that I like. Louis C.K., breakfast and sports to name a few. Doing Louis C.K. as a full time occupation is out of the question. So I got to thinking about committing to writing about sports.

I know I enjoy it, and at the same time I think it does things for me that caramel-bacon pancakes can’t do.

Sports connect us in ways we otherwise wouldn’t be connected. The human experience seems to take form in sports, something we can all relate to. Struggle, hardship, perseverance and triumph. And it sounds corny, because it is. But often times the corniest moments are also the most meaningful. It’s only corny because it’s been done before, which is not a bad thing.
It also isn’t a very practical occupation. Being able to read a box score or analyze a game isn’t doing anything for cancer research, NASA or the government.

In many respects, my sports writing does about as much good as current politicians anyway.
And I think sports writing, even storytelling in general, does accomplish something, it’s just a little less tangible.

There’s nothing quite like reading good writing. You’re drawn in by your senses, and things slow down. If only for a few minutes, things slow. You’re allowed, even encouraged, to forget about math homework, exams, money problems, relationship problems, hygiene problems, any and all problems. Because in that moment, you’re just reading about the New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft and his heart-warming connection with a high-schooler slowly dying from an accelerated-aging disease.

You’re lost in the story. It’s an essential experience that is all-too-often taken for granted. It’s easy to continue in cruise control when it takes effort to stop and take some time for yourself.

In a roundabout way, that’s what it’s all about, right?

We all have to grow up, get a job or whatever.

So if that’s the case, choose something that requires you to slow down, like eating breakfast.