The big parade for the LA Lakers happened the other day.
I didn’t go.
I also didn’t watch the game.
They were playing that Boston team, right?
But, as I was watching coverage of the parade, I got a little jealous. Not of the players or the people on the floats, but the people on the sides of the street. I know, I’ve heard my neighbors screaming during the games, cheering on the team through their giant TV screen, so excited about five wealthy men putting an orange ball through an iron hoop. Screaming. Pounding fists. Wooping.
Here were those same types of people lining the streets of downtown. One young woman, in particular caught my attention. She couldn’t stop hopping up and down. She couldn’t contain herself. She was overflowing with enthusiasm and excitement.
I was intensely jealous because I don’t get that excited about anything, especially something that has no impact on my life directly. In a way, I really wish that I could get that wrapped up in something, even if I have absolutely no effect on the outcome and the outcome had no effect on my life.