Things in Sports That Will Shave Years Off Your Life

Unless you consider casual fishing to be a sport, anyone would be hard-pressed to make the case that sports reduce stress; much less would be considered relaxing.

Most people can't even get through a weekend round of golf with their buddies without blowing a gasket. And if a person isn't making the air crackle with f-bombs after plunking another shot into the water hazard, on the inside they're a cataclysmic mental-apocalypse.

So for athletes and fans, the stress and anxiety ceiling only goes up as the stakes get higher; whether you're a lifelong Mississippi State fan facing the reality that the SEC West has no margin for error, or San Francisco Giants pitcher Hunter Strickland after giving up a two-run homer in the World Series.

Wins, losses, injuries, ticket prices, bad luck, contract status, replays, gameday traffic and countless things that make sports...well, sports...also send our blood pressure to altitudes that are bad in small doses and life-span shrinking over the long-term.

These are the things in sports that will shave years off your life.

“God, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” The Serenity Prayer doesn’t just work for members of Alcoholics Anonymous, it’s also very easily applied to sports. 

As fans we have very little direct impact on the end result of a game, but there is no aspect of a game in which we have less control than officiating. Yet so often it seems that it’s the one thing we obsess over the most—particularly after a loss. 

Getting crazy over the zebras is as futile as looking for cool people at a Nickleback concert. And since we all know stress can be toxic, avoiding it whenever possible will definitely serve us well. Don’t give those clowns in stripes any more power than they already have!

Speaking from my own experience and that of many of my friends and family, there are few things more stressful in life than an NFL survivor pool. With each passing week you “survive,” it starts to feel more like an actual life or death scenario.

Getting bumped out in Week 1 is always a shameful experience, particularly if your pool is mostly friends and family and your friends and family are mostly mean people. But those still alive in Week 8 often find themselves wishing they, too, had been foiled by the Dolphins beating the stuffing out of the Patriots.

Sure, in the end it’ll be worth it for one person. One…out of 78. That’s 77 other people who will walk away $20 poorer, a few units lighter on self-esteem, and probably with no less than a year shaved off the end of his or her life. Not that it'll stop any of us from making the same terrible decision next August...and the August after that...and all the Augusts after that.

Famed thinker (and modern day Aristotle) Homer Simpson once said: “To alcohol! The cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems!” 

On one hand, he’s totally right. Alcohol is amazing and one of the few things that feeds the soul perfectly, whether it’s sunny or dark, celebrating or grieving, happy or sad. 

On the other hand, alcohol is bad for you—at least in excess. It’s bad for your liver. It’s bad for your figure. It’s bad for your motor skills. It’s bad for your decision making abilities. 

Which is why tying it to everything sports related is a bad idea sure to cost you at least a few years. Either on this planet or via the stretches of jail time, after your drunken fan antics land you in the joint. 

Getting in over your head in his case basically means picking fights you cannot win—ya know, letting your mouth write checks your butt can’t cash. It also includes picking fights you can win, but that nothing positive will come from. This includes: 

Fighting. 

Starting fires. 

Throwing garbage at fans or players. 

Taunting event security. 

Rioting. 

If you’re the type of person for whom any of the above seems like appropriate behavior at/in the vicinity of a sporting event, you’re probably not going to live as long as the rest of us. Maybe you’ll die in a fiery riot, or maybe high blood pressure will eventually take you down. Neither are worth it, so settle down!

This one doesn’t really apply to most fans, unless there’s a surprisingly large amount of people dumping Gatorade on themselves at home, which may very well be the case. But until that matter is properly investigated, this is more of an on the field risk. 

Gatorade showers (or baths, if that’s what you prefer) are pretty common in football and baseball after any really big win. (Or unless you’re Charlie Weiss, after just any win) Baseball is played predominately in warm weather, and it’s usually the players on the receiving end, so there isn’t much of a risk. 

Football, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. The biggest wins usually come at the end of the season, which is somewhere between November and February, depending on the team and whether it’s college or pro. And it’s the coaches, many of whom are of advanced age, rather than the players on the receiving end. 

Listen, I’m not a doctor, but it doesn’t take medical degree thingy to recognize that: Senior Citizens + Bucked Of Iced Liquid + Cold Weather + The Element Of Surprise = DANGER. That's just basic arithmetic. 

The one thing working in favor of Green Bay’s bikini girls (aside from their bikini bods, so it’s really two things) is the fact that they’re substantially younger than the coaches I previously expressed concern about (re: cold weather and cold beverages). 

The one thing working against Green Bay’s bikini girls is the fact that it’s substantially colder in Green Bay in December than almost anywhere on Earth. (At least anywhere on Earth I’ve ever been to) Unfortunately, good looks and youth will only protect one to a point.

Now…I don’t have any advanced scientific knowledge or know how, but it seems pretty obvious that extreme cold on bare bodies combined with that Lambeau Field hoodoo has the power to mess with molecules…and stuff. And that sounds like dangerous...stuff. 

Occasionally indulging in the wide array of crispy brown foods available in this great nation’s stadiums, ballparks and arenas is fine. Same rules apply for the wide array of crispy brown foods available in regular life, outside this great nation’s stadiums, ballparks and arenas. 

[All that stuff about moderation]

But making crispy brown foods a centerpiece of your diet and your sports viewing experience will definitely shave at least a few years off. To prevent death by tater tots, just remember this very stupid rhyme that I’m going to make up as I go and will probably make you think I’m very much an idiot:

Leafy and green, pick it up. Crispy and brown, put it down. (Sorry, that's really the best I could do.)

This one goes for fans and athletes alike. There is, quite simply, nothing good that will ever come from arguing with anyone about anything on Twitter. 

As long as you don’t get too insane about it, then it may not shave significant time off the backend. Of course there are plenty of people who do get too insane about it—you know who you are!

But just remember that when you’re reflecting on your life from your deathbed, all the hours wasted trying to prove or disprove the “classiness” of a fanbase or a team will definitely be among the time you wish you could get back. 

Few things in life are more risk and less reward than being a Jets fan. 

Except for perhaps...

If such a thing does, in fact, exist, there will be a comfortable lounge in hell (or heaven, but let’s be realistic) for lifelong Cubs fans that anguished themselves into an early grave, annually pinning their hopes to a baseball team designed by Satan himself, specifically to rip their hearts out. 

Their commitment is equal parts commendable and crazy, as is their masochistic love for a team that is either unable or unwilling to return the sentiment. People willingly living with that type of torment absolutely has to cost them on the back end. The good news is that the cold embrace of death will probably be a relief for most Cubs fans.

So the sooner, the better—right? Also, pretty much all of this goes for Jets fans on the previous slide—except the possibility of heaven. HIYO! I’m seriously kidding. I know a number of Jets fans personally and I’m only certain one is definitely going to hell. 

There’s no question that fantasy football is one of the most needlessly stressful and time-consuming activities…maybe ever. Like in the entire history of human existence, fantasy football ranks right up there with pretending to be allergic to gluten in terms of imaginary problems. 

The difference between our imaginary football teams and the imaginary dietary restrictions of dullards is that some of us actually have lots of teams (I know more than one person in at least a dozen leagues), while people who pretend they have food allergies generally stick to one or two, so as not to completely inconvenience themselves. (Inconveniencing others is not a concern) 

So when it comes to fantasy football, the best way to avoid stressing yourself into an early grave (or end up covered in loser bet tattoos) is to model yourself after the gluten alarmists. Focus your efforts on just one or two teams and make every season count—that's time well spent, rather than wasted. 

Breathing in fumes from garbage fires (they set) seems like something any moderately functional human being without a death wish would go out of their way to avoid. Just basic common sense and survival instinct stuff that’s so fundamental, it’s almost impossible to fight. 

Almost impossible. 

Though most of us will go our entire lives without lighting a couch on fire, pushing it down a hill on a city street into a crowd of people, and then spend hours rioting around it and inhaling the fumes, there are a few statistical outliers—most of which happen to be college students. 

College football fans most at risk of shaving a few years off their life by breathing in toxic burning couch fumes can be found in disproportionately large populations in two U.S. cities: Morgantown, West Virginia, and East Lansing, Michigan. 

Actually, being any mascot is dangerous business, capable of shaving years off the live of any nutbag crazy enough to don a furry costume for hours on end in July and August. You’ve got to have a few screws loose to willing seek out a job in which avoiding heatstroke is a daily struggle. 

Aside from temperature related trauma, mascots engage in a whole slew of irresponsible and just generally dangerous behavior. It’s clear these people believe those costumes provide a bit more protection than they actually do—it sure didn’t provide the Raptors mascot much relief when it suffered a season-ending Achilles injury in October 2013. 

Being the Phillie Phanatic isn’t much more dangerous than being any other mascot, but messing with the Phillie Phanatic is a much riskier proposition than messing with any other mascot. 

The Phanatic has been called the “Most-Sued Mascot in the Majors” and the “Big Green Litigation Machine” because…well…it has been sued a pant load of times; though some of the lawsuits have a bit  more merit than others. 

That being said, much like taking the stairs and eating your vegetables, avoiding all contact with the Phanatic should be considered a vital part of any healthy lifestyle. 

When it comes to crashing the field at a game, there are no circumstances in which doing so is better for your health and general wellbeing than not crashing the field. 

Clothed or unclothed. Drunk or undrunk. Planned or unplanned. None of these things matter when you’re willingly choosing to engage in an activity in which the best case scenario is only getting arrested. 

Worst case scenario is that you get chased down and tasered by event security, body-slammed by an NFL linebacker or college strength and conditioning coach, roughly dragged off the field, kicked out of the game, banned from the stadium, all while publicly shaming your family. And then you get arrested. 

While there are some people better physically and emotionally equipped to handle that kind of shock to their system, this kind of drama/trauma isn’t good for anyone. Because there are so many variables here, it’s impossible to estimate just how much time could be shaved off your life by crashing the field, but I think it’s pretty safe to assume that it’s at least four years. 

Going to games is an essential part of the fan experience; one that should be enjoyed in the moment and cherished for a lifetime after. Win or lose, rain or shine, good seats or bad, every moment spent watching our favorite teams live and in person is time well spent. 

The time spent sitting in traffic on the way to the stadium, on the other hand, is some we wouldn’t mind getting back.

Same goes with time spent looking for parking, waiting in lines for various things both inside and outside the stadium, looking for the car after the game, sitting in gridlock trying to leave the parking lot, and then sitting in more gridlock after finally leaving the parking lot. 

The amount of life wasted in traffic (both human and automotive) varies greatly depending on congestion in your city and the average number of games attended annually. Not that it matters in the moment, because it always feels like a decade. 

Listen! I’m not saying that Raiders fans will probably, definitely kill you if you mess with them enough. That would be absurd. 

But I’m not not saying that either. All I am saying is that this is probably, definitely a fanbase worth treading lightly with. 

In Sports there are rivalries and then there are Rivalries. The little ‘r’ rivalries are between teams that meet on a regular basis and/or exist within a certain geographic proximity, but lack any history of relevancy and/or actual history. 

Teams that never win don’t normally have a lot of heated rivalries—sorry, but any “rivalry” that involves the Chicago Cubs leaves a lot to be desired. Expansion teams don’t tend to get a lot of love in the rivalry conversation either—the San Jose Sharks have been around since 1991 and they’re still just the lame California hockey team with the least amount of Stanley Cups (zero). 

Then you’ve got crappy expansion teams that have limited success and absolutely no history to fall back on. The tragically terrible Jacksonville Jaguars cover both of the aforementioned bases. They’ve been in the NFL since 1995, but outside of a few dozen Northern Floridians, nobody would even notice if they disappeared tomorrow. Unless you count people relying on their penchant always losing to guide their survivor pool picks. 

Big “R” Rivalries are an entirely different beast. These aren’t just tensions that heat up once or twice a year—we’re talking about a full-time job. And nowhere are these Rivalries more of a full-time job than inside the very hostile world of college football. Sorry! But Bears-Packers, Steelers-Ravens (and the like) have nothing on Ohio State-Michigan, Duke-North Carolina, Auburn-Alabama, or South Carolina-Clemson. 

What makes college Rivalries such a volatile dumpster fire is that they often have both history and geographic proximity fanning the flames—and that’s before 30,000 drunk college students with few other things on their collective ‘to-do’ lists than pouring gasoline on them. It’s a visceral hate that’s so intense, tracking the failures of the Rival actually brings almost as much joy (maybe more?) than the successes of one’s own team. 

That is some serious negativity. I have no way to back this up, but I imagine college football fans of this sort die, on average, 3-5 years earlier than people who attended, for example, Robert Morris University.