I’ve played a lot of soccer in my twenty-six years. I’ve run countless miles across green fields, rattled hundreds of goal posts, accumulated untold numbers of yellow cards, and kicked an astronomical number of balls. I have no idea how many goals I’ve scored, how many pairs of cleats I’ve worn until the stitching decayed to nothing, or how many miles my parents drove to deliver me to soccerplexes all across the country.
I got to thinking; how many other statistics have flown by me unnoticed, unrecorded? How many words have I read in my life? How many pennies have I accidentally thrown away? How many times have I said the word “repugnant?” How many people have I made laugh? How many people have I made cry?
More importantly, how many ounces of beer have I consumed!?
When I find a genie in a bottle, one of my wishes will be to have the ability to instantly, accurately recall any statistic from my life. It’d be my first, and probably only wish. I’ve thought about it long and hard, and short of the psychological impact of learning exactly how many horrible things you’ve done in your life and how many other lives you’ve inadvertently destroyed, there are no downsides!
You could finally find out how many miles you’ve traveled and by what mode of transport. How many socks were actually eaten by the drier and not just lost due to your lack of organization. How few times breaking up with that crazy girl was a bad idea. How many times you just barely avoided death in college.
The possibilities are endless. It’s perpetual entertainment. Just think of the graphs and flow charts you could make with this information at your disposal. You’d be a veritable one-man research team!
I’m sure, after a dozen years or so, I would have dried-up all of the generic statistical wells, and be well into asking for numbers on extremely abstract or oddly specific things. How many times did I miss seeing a horse in the wild because I was too busy looking at a mountain? How many times did my car keys strike my belt buckle from the ages for seventeen to thirty-one? Rounded to the nearest tenth, how many milliliters of hand sanitizer has my body absorbed through my hands and how many brains cells has that killed?
How many used car ties would the amount of Flying Dog Tire Bite Golden Ale I’ve consumed fill? Why is Tire Bite so light at tasty? Why does it refresh like a lager, but send my taste buds soaring like ale? Why would you ever bite a tire?
Wait, those last few aren’t statistical questions.
How many brewmasters does it take to make Flying Dog so good at what they do? How many other beers exist that are this good? How many beers are there that I don’t like? How many people are as crazy as me?
9 out of 10.
Next up: Sam Adams Summer Ale!