Sports used to be about competition, glory, and, you know, actual exercise. Now? It’s the perfect backdrop for my running commentary on human absurdity. Every game, every match, every awkward warm-up is just material waiting for my snarky remarks.

Take competitive eye-rolling. If there was an Olympic medal for judging the judge, I’d be a gold medalist. Watching referees miss calls is less frustrating and more entertainment. It’s like reality TV but with whistles and slow-motion replays.

Marathon of unanswered emails? That’s my kind of endurance sport. 26.2 miles of ignoring your inbox while pretending productivity is a priority. The only sweat I break is from laughing at my own excuses.

(Prompt: man at a desk surrounded by stacks of unopened emails, sipping coffee with a sarcastic grin)

Extreme people-watching is my cardio. I’ve perfected the art of mental commentary, awarding gold medals for the most ridiculous office antics and public transportation dramas. My seat at the bus stop is my personal arena.

And let’s not forget synchronized napping. Partners must yawn in perfect unison — an underrated sport that requires skill, timing, and total commitment to avoiding responsibility. My coach? The snooze button.