Football and I don't get on well at all.
I wouldn't go so far as to condemn those who obsess over it, as long as they don't spill it all over me. Luckily my parents didn't go for sport either, and being rather a reclusive family, the family TV set was never usurped for it. Having little in common with sports fans, I never associated with them, so I've managed to effectively dodge any attempts to ram football down my throat. Hence my mellow attitude to its devotees.
I did have a brief flirtation with football around 1966, when I was still trying to fit in with mainstream society because I thought there was nothing else out there. But I never got my brain round the rules (this is UK football as that's where I am), I could just about fathom the score (it changes when the round thingy goes into the net thingy), but all that stopping and starting was right over my head. And they change over to the other side of the field at half time, which always threw me.
To cap it all, the team I chose to "support" made it to the cup final, and had the match in the bag at half time, and then threw it all away in the second half. Luckily my heart was never really in it, so I didn't become as depressed as the other supporters, but naturally once I'd seen how happiness could be ruined by somebody else's mistakes, I abandoned all interest, and to this day I use that match as my excuse whenever I have to explain my disinterest in the game. The story seems to cut some ice with those who have a passion for the game, especially if I play up the "heartbreak" part of the tale. It's a bit of a stretcher, but it seems to go down better than just pouring bile on their special interest.
As for playing it, I couldn't kick a ball accurately to save my life, and my total failure to understand the rules (which they never teach, as they always assume that only a dork wouldn't have them in their DNA) made the whole thing a disaster. I was forced to play it at school for a while, but it didn't make me bitter towards the game, just towards the school. The guys at work once asked me to join their five-a-side team (they must have been really desperate!), so I politely declined, and when they pressed the issue, I just say "really, you'd never forgive me if I joined." They were disappointed with my response, but nothing like as disappointed as they'd have been if I'd taken up the challenge.
I agree that football fanaticism looks extremely backward from the outside. If it were a minority interest, its supporters would just look nerdy and sad - which is an observation Richard Dawkins made about religion, though he probably put it more elegantly. And my attitude to sport is much like my attitude to religion - they can pursue it with my blessing, as long as they keep it out of my face and don't use it as an excuse to let me down.