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Despite all appearances, Dean’s never been a big fan of football. Of course he’ll sit down with Sam and some beers and watch a game if it’s on, but their transient lifestyle means he’s never really been in a place long enough to have a team. He sure as hell understands the game, though, and can appreciate it when he has to.
Sam, the giant nerd, played soccer. Dean went to his games, whenever he could make the team, and Dad always approved ‘cause of the cardio training. But Dean sometimes lost the plot, sitting in the stands on brisk autumn evenings, and the all of a sudden someone’s getting a yellow card shoved in their face and Dean’s got no idea why. And if he finds one on the TV, Sam’ll definitely sit down and watch a game with rapt attention and awe at the skill displayed. He doesn’t follow a team, near as Dean can tell.
Dean’s favorite has always been baseball. There were a few years here and there where they stayed long enough in one place during the spring and summer that Dean got to play most of a season on a local team, and he could usually find a pick-up game in a park to join. He still follows the Royals; it’s easy enough to snag the sports section of the paper and check the box scores.
Dean had taken the time with Ben to teach him what he could; it was easy enough to toss a ball around and have batting practice in the backyard if they were careful. Ben had taken to it well, too. Dean hopes that he’s continued. Organized sports are a good tool for focusing, he’s heard.
Cass…doesn’t have a sport. Dean sits him down on the couch - “I don’t see the point of this exercise, Dean.” “Just sit on the damn couch, Cass.” - and they watch football. Cass stares at the screen with that familiar look of concentration, as though he’s trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe. And when Dean nudges him, asking with with a raised eyebrow and an open expression for Cass’ opinion, Cass turns that stare on Dean.
“I don’t see why the action keeps stopping.” And Dean gives up on football.
Sam tries to get Cass to watch soccer next, and that goes marginally better, though Cass, like most casual fans, doesn’t really get the offsides rule, despite Sam trying to explain it to him at least a dozen times. Dean spends his time snickering at Sam’s patiently exasperated look.
Because it’s still September, Dean manages to find a baseball game on. He grabs Cass from the kitchen, plops him down on the couch, and launches into an explanation of the game much more thorough than any he gave for football. Cass nods his head as Dean extrapolates how the defense is in control of the ball, what the different types of pitches mean, how that was a bullshit call by the ump and that runner was definitely out, but there’s no replay in baseball so what can you do. They sit through the game and at the end Cass nods pensively.
“It’s definitely unique,” is all he says, and Dean feels something in his chest shrivel a little bit.
At this point, Dean gives up trying to find Cass a favorite sport. He’d only gotten into it because it seemed unfair how he and Sam would monopolize the TV with their choices. Good riddance, he thinks, and promptly forgets about it.
Until, that is, he walks into the living room to find Cass yelling angrily at the TV. “There’s no way that was high sticking! Is your eyesight impaired?”
“Really Cass?” Dean asks, leaning against the doorframe. “Hockey?”