There’s a reason why I write this column every week.

It’s probably the same reason you’re reading it now.

It’s not rocket science — we love sports. Our weekly
consumption of ESPN infinitely prevails over that of CNBC and Comedy Central
combined. We know more players’ OBPs than we do countries’ GDPs. “Cinderella” reminds us of George Mason before lost slippers,
and we can name more SportsCenter anchors than we can cabinet members in our
own government.

I’m not proud of it. In fact, it’s rather embarrassing. My
knowledge of sports vastly outweighs that of politics or economics (good thing
it’s my major).

For a long time, I never thought anything of it. But
recently, my ignorance about the world in which I live has bothered me more and
more.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to analyze lefty-righty
pitching matchups before I study Japanese economic expansion. But I’ve come to
realize something: Sports are not the end-all, be-all — they’re merely a means
of entertainment.

I know it’s hard to take that statement seriously from
someone who literally cried after Aaron Boone’s extra-inning home run off of
Tim Wakefield in 2003 and who went into a 48-hour hibernation after Plaxico
Burress’s last-minute touchdown reception in February’s Super Bowl. But it’s
true; there are more important things in life than sports.

Sometimes we just need a reminder.

I’ve already got mine.

While I was stressed, worried about my Marketing 300 exam a
few weeks ago, my best friend since sixth grade was training in Virginia.

Training for what, you ask? War. Not the Game 7 “war” Kevin
Garnett speaks of (watch it on YouTube; it’s actually pretty funny). I’m
talking about real war, the Iraq war, the war in which he’ll be fighting this
summer.

For most Americans — including myself — war is so abstract.
Yeah, our country is at war, but does it actually affect our everyday lives?

Ignorant, I know, but how many of us actually think about
the war on a daily basis?

Starting in May, I will be.

This summer, my mom will worry if I put on enough sunblock
while I’m waterskiing at my friend’s lake house. My friend’s mom will be
worrying about, well, some more important things.

I’m not telling you to stop watching ESPN or stop playing
fantasy baseball. Don’t stop bleeding cardinal and white or crying over the now
Favre-less Packers. Take sports seriously; they’re fun. I merely urge you to
put sports into perspective and understand the world does not revolve around
whether or not Tony Romo plays worse with Jessica Simpson up in the Cowboys’
luxury box. It doesn’t even revolve around Jason Bohannon’s 3-point percentage
or P.J. Hill’s average yards per rush, as much as we’d like it to.

I’d be a hypocrite if I said those things don’t matter to
me, because they do. But some things are more important, like family and
friends.

Especially ones who risk their lives so you can paint your
body red, drink copious amounts of beer and scream “asshole” at every Michigan
fan who stands in your section.

So next time you’re stressing over your next O-chem test,
just be thankful you’re in Madison and not Fallujah, because some people our
age are.

The issues Skip Bayless and Stephen A. Smith discuss every
morning are heated and exciting, but they aren’t life or death.

Some things in life are.

Justin, thanks for doing that, so I can do this. Believe me,
it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Derek ([email protected])
is a sophomore majoring in economics.