SPORTING TOPICS OF CONVERSATION

I MENTIONED the other day that I was not particularly interested in sport and found it puzzling that so many people I know seem to follow every provincial or national sports event with an abiding passion.

I’m obviously in a tiny minority here, but not completely alone, I’m pleased to report. Two Tavern readers did respond, agreeing with me and saying they were also amazed and irritated by the amount of media space and time devoted to sport.

Victor wrote: “Is any of it important?” He didn’t think is was.

Eddie was irritated by the number of times sports stories featured on the front page. “They should stay on the back page where they belong.”

Sport seems to be a mainly male topic of conversation. Obviously I do not experience all-female social gatherings, but somehow I can’t imagine a group of women arguing passionately about who would be the best left winger for the Banyana Banyana match on Saturday.

I have a naive belief women discuss more important topics, but I may be wrong, of course. On the occasions I’ve found myself in allmale company the conversation has revolved mainly around sport, cars, or the telling of slightly off-colour jokes. (Or slagging off politicians, but that’s a typical South African sport. Or joke.)

I suspect this might be because sport and jokes are two relatively neutral subjects.

Men in general tend to avoid emotional areas of expression. We are embarrassed by religion, or love, or death, or fear.

Cowboys don’t cry. Well, not in public, so did you hear the one about the man who walked into the bar with a chicken on his head?

There’s an unwritten rule in many pubs that religion and politics are taboo subjects.

Rather discuss sports or cars. You can be quite pushy on either of those subjects without hurting anybody’s feelings. And if your listener seems bored with your opinion of the best coach for the Pumas, or the Ostriches or whatever, tell a joke.

Another male form of conversation focuses on the route you took to get there.

“You came over Ou Kaapse Weg? I usually turn left at the golf course and come via Boyes Drive. That way I avoid the school traffic,” and on and on for kilometre after kilometre of detailed verbal road map.

I suppose it’s a lot more cheerful than staring silently into your beer mug.

Some years ago, I used to spend Sunday afternoons visiting my late uncle Niels in Silvermine retirement village.

He enjoyed lively chats and I was always instructed to come armed with at least one interesting subject of conversation. One taboo subject was health. He didn’t want to hear about the swelling on your big toe.

Last Laugh

Harry was moving into a new suburb and his neighbour came strolling by to meet him.

He found Harry putting a new sign on the front gate. It said: “Beware of the budgie.”

The neighbour laughed and said: “Surely budgies aren’t very dangerous.”

“This one is,” said Harry. “He knows how to whistle for the Rottweiler.”