…from Mike Marklew
Armchair athletes
During the Olympics, everybody docs nothing but drool about medals and records but the other night, when I suggested making a run for the last train to a few of my colleagues, nobody was interested. They hailed a cab instead.
We got talking about which sport each indulged in. There were “enthusiasts” and “followers” and almost every kind of sport “watchers,” but not one of them actually “performed” anything.
Playing golf once or twice a year can hardly be called being an active “sportsman.”
I admitted there is one sport I do participate in—fishing. It is classed as a sport, but to me it’s the perfect excuse to sit and do nothing. If you just sat on a river bank, everyone would call you lazy, but with a rod in your hand the only comment you get is, “Catch anything?”
Life as a sarariiman leaves little time to do any sport. With six working days followed by the usual post-office, beer and yakitori session there’s only Sunday left. After a sleep-in ’til noon and a chat with the kids, it’s time for bed.
Then, it’s Monday again.
(Let’s hope all companies follow the government’s “Saturdays off” idea from next April— except the department stores.)
There’s not even time for any exercise. Sure you can find plenty of places to swing a golf club or tennis racquet which are open at night, but most of us need some sleep.
Personally, the exercise I enjoy the most and was “techniquely” not good at until I became 40, is the one I do together with my wife.
Which? Disco-dancing, of course, but since our children arc very young, we don’t get many chances to practice without interruption.
That’s life in this country, I suppose. At least in the U.K., the average worker can get some exercise after work and stilt relax.
All the pubs have dart boards and many have a billiard table. And, have you felt the weight of a pint tankard, full of English beer?
In Japan you’ll find the same sized receptacle but in most places you get half a glass of froth.
Yoroshiku,
MIKE
