During winter break, I missed a family get-together because of a scheduling conflict with a Pittsburgh Steelers playoff game. I didn’t think anyone would be offended, especially since I was so honest — after all, I could have just called in sick.

Unfortunately, my frankness didn’t earn me any bonus points. The next time I saw my aunt, she still held a grudge.

“I don’t get it,” she told me. “Why do people love sports so much?”

At first it seemed like such a simple question, but so many thoughts and emotions began running through my head that I couldn’t even think of a response.

“That’s what I thought,” my aunt said. “Nobody ever has an answer.”

****

Every question has an answer. Even if that answer is found in the most unlikely of places. Like softball practice.

That’s right, softball practice. At the beginning of the spring semester, Binghamton softball head coach Holly Brown invited me to watch her team practice, as a way to find out what athletes go through when the scoreboard isn’t running. I was so excited that I shaved my legs and went to bed at 10 o’clock.

After a solid eight hours of sleep, I headed to the Events Center at 6:30 in the morning to see what its like to be a BU athlete. The only other people who were outside at that ungodly hour were a couple of police officers and a group of about a dozen girls in the middle of an early jog. To this day, I’m not sure if the girls were members of the cross-country team or a bunch of really athletic criminals fleeing the cops, but that’s a whole separate column.

Anyway, as I made my way down to the basketball courts, the softball players were already stretching on the sidelines. Instead of doing their usual conditioning drills, the Bearcats were to be timed in the mile run. Each player, along with new assistant coach Missy Bieman, had to complete eight laps around the track in less than seven and a half minutes.

Considering I had trouble brushing my teeth that morning, watching the girls run the mile seemed surreal.

After the last girl crossed the finish line, Brown held a brief team meeting. And just like that, half of the Bearcats’ obligations for the day were complete.

Brown told everyone to meet back at the West Gym at 3:30 — eight hours later — for softball drills. That’s where the true fun began.

The Bearcats’ energy level hits you once you walk through those gym doors. Their motivation, desire, passion — it can’t be expressed in words. I’m not that good of a writer.

They’re also such a close-knit group of players. It’s like they were recruited to be best friends. And for those of you that have seen the Bearcats play, they’re even crazier in practice than they are in the dugout.

Sure, it was only one day out of about 200, but life as a softball player didn’t seem too bad. Maybe it would be beneficial for the girls to spend a week in my shoes. Going to bed at five in the morning and sleeping well past noon isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

Watching softball practice definitely ranks up there with my favorite memories in three years at BU. Thinking about that day also helps motivate me to give 100 percent in everything I do.

Who knows, maybe I’ll try out for the team next year. I’d probably break a bunch of NCAA regulations, but at least I’d have a great time in the process. Catcher Christina Quijano said it would be like MTV’s “Made.”

****

Three weeks after practice, I finally saw my aunt again. There weren’t any more hard feelings over my “lack of family values,” but I still had some loose ends to tie up. I reminded my aunt about the conversation we had two months earlier, and she knew exactly what I was getting at.

“This better be good,” she said. “Why do people love sports so much?”

“Come to softball practice with me tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll show you exactly why.”