I have to admit, I don’t do sportsball. It didn’t have to be this way. As a kid I had baseball cards, a glove with which I occasionally (almost by accident it seems) caught a ball, a ball which my dog kept stealing and was (to me) irreplaceably expensive, and a bat which I occasionally swung at designated objects like baseballs (instead of more adventurous things like trees and bullies). I was the all American kid who loved baseball. Who fucked it up? Baseball did!
There were strikes and lockdowns in ’72, ’73, ’76, ’80, ’81, and continuing. (It was a hard time that broke my relationship with Sports. Iran took hostages, the price of gas skyrocketed, the national speed limit was 55, and AMC Gremlins roamed free. Both Sports and I emerged with scars.) Fortunately, Sports and I had an amiable breakup. I had a brief dalliance with the Olympics (Miracle On Ice!) but came to my senses before things got out of hand. I eventually called it quits for just about anything involving a team (including not only Sports but war, organized religion, and Trekkie fandom). From then on all “sports” I’ve done have involved [redacted], there’s no goddamn team, and it doesn’t revolve around watching the tube. In short, I’ve been something of a loner ever since. I never missed Sports. Sometimes Sports calls me though. Usually in the middle of the night when Sports has been drinking. “Take me back”, Sports says, “I’ve changed.” But I know it’ll never be the same. I’ve moved on and Sports only wants my money anyway.
But there I was, eating fried food and guzzling cheap beer… and the game sucked. I don’t really care who plays so long as they’re evenly matched. I want to see struggle dammit. The Falcons weren’t just beating the Patriots… they were kicking their ass so hard their grandchildren would feel it. Damn.
I suppose, the Cubs winning the final game in their series, which was breathtakingly close, was a once in a lifetime event (like the Miracle on Ice!). I was silly to expect a repeat. As usual the Superbowl was going to be a lopsided snooze fest. The next day NPR would analyze the commercials and I’d wind up jumping out of my truck’s window rather than listen to some nitwit discuss a car ad.
Then Lady Gaga came on…