When I was a little kid, all the old men sat on the lawn on Sunday on those lawn chairs with the fiberglass straps, drank beer from steel cans, and talked about the most popular sports in the country. They never talked about pro football, basketball, soccer, or golf. They talked about boxing, horse racing, college football, and hockey.
The popularity of sports waxes and wanes. When Bill Russell won all those titles with the Celtics, the Boston Garden was empty half the time. The boxing matches sold out, though. Hell. the wrestling matches were sold out. Ted Williams played his last game at Fenway in front of thousands of fans disguised as seats. I can guarantee that ESPN will look very different in 2025 than it did in 2015. If it’s still on TV.
But then again, I don’t really care what’s going on. All I know is I love it. I could go to this match and sit in the stands all day and enjoy the hell out of it. I’d never catch on to the rules of the scoring, or develop an affinity for one team over another. I’d be like a girl at a football game.
When I got there again I seen that them men had got in two little bitty bunches down there real close together, and they voted. They did. They voted and elected one man apiece, and them two men come out in the middle of that cow pasture and shook hands like they hadn’t seen one another in a long time. Then a convict come over to where they was a-standin’, and he took out a quarter, and they commenced to odd man right there! They did. After a while I seen what it was they was odd-manning for. It was that both bunches-full of them men wanted this funny-looking little pumpkin to play with. They did. And I know, friends, that they couldn’t eat it because they kicked it the whole evening and it never busted.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I remember those innocent years fondly. George Bush was president, gas cost about $2.50 a gallon, and Bud Light was still considered potable. The only riots we had were over sports championships, Capri Sun shortages, and the proper way to wear a golf visor. I killed a man with a soup spoon and a small package of flavoring that I got out of a box of ramen noodles because he insisted on wearing his visor upside-down and backwards. I regret nothing.
If hockey was like this I think I’d watch more hockey — or any hockey at all, for that matter. I’m on a strict anti-sports diet at the moment. Whenever someone tries talks about sports or mentions a sport of any kind, I go into the bathroom and purge. I lost 15 pounds in a week, and I only had to go to the hospital twice!
I’m not too fond of my diet, so I tend to avoid people who talk about sports or participate in sports. Very often, if I see someone walking down the side of the road and they’re wearing a jersey of any kind I swerve to hit them. I don’t actually hit them; I much prefer giving them a little scare. At the last minute I’ll pull away, so the only thing that gets damaged is their pants from projectile crapping themselves.