Up until a few weeks ago, I had a girlfriend that didn’t have a clue about what it meant to be a sports fan. She didn’t understand the significance of the Big Red Machine or why I yelled “Who Dey” at the TV Sunday afternoons.

When the Cleveland Browns upset the Cincinnati Bengals last fall, she didn’t understand why I couldn’t speak for that week. She didn’t understand why my mood was directly connected with the success of Carson Palmer and “Ocho Cinco.”

When Memphis and Michigan State played in the Elite 8, she didn’t understand why I had to watch the game even though Kent State was long out of the tournament.

She didn’t understand why I would wake up at 4 a.m. to watch soccer games halfway around the world. Why I had a library of tapes of the U.S. Men’s National Team’s games from the last two World Cups.

This column isn’t meant to bash on my ex-girlfriend. This is to shed light on why I am a sports fan.

I am a sports fan because even if everything in my life goes wrong, I can watch a baseball game. I can completely absorb myself in a competition that won’t affect my life in any way.

I can forget about all the stress, the problems and the term papers for a couple hours. I can be a complete idiot cheering for a team that loses more often than it wins. And when the game is over, I can return to dealing with my life.

I am a sports fan for the same reason people read books or watch movies. I am a sports fan because at the end of the day, sports are irrelevant. I am a sports fan because it lets all my emotions out and then leaves them on the field.

Sports is my escape.

Contact sports reporter Josh Johnson at [email protected].