Sports: My Brain’s Version of a Pop-Up Add

Some people love sports. They get season tickets, paint their faces, yell at the TV like it can hear them.

Me? I can’t even watch sports. Live or on TV. Doesn’t matter. My autistic brain short-circuits before the first whistle blows.

Here’s the problem: there’s too much going on. My sensory processing is like an inbox with zero spam filters — every sound, movement, and flashing light comes through at full volume. The crowd is screaming, the announcer is yelling over the crowd, the scoreboard is blinking, and somewhere in there, I’m apparently supposed to follow the ball.

The ball is the least interesting part of the whole experience. My eyes keep getting hijacked by the referee’s socks, the person three rows back waving a giant foam finger, and the way the hot dog guy somehow weaves through the crowd without spilling his mustard tray. By the time I remember there’s an actual game happening, everyone’s already cheering because something “big” happened.

It’s not that I don’t understand the rules — it’s that my brain is running its own side quests. Like:

Why is the grass a slightly different shade on the left side?

Do all the players have to wear the same socks or is that just peer pressure?

If the coach is yelling instructions, why can’t the other team hear them too?

Sports people tell me, “You just have to pay attention!” And I tell them, “I am focusing. Just not on the thing you want me to.”

So if I'm invited to a game, I probably won't go.  But if I do go and you ask me who won? I’ll say “the hot dog guy.”