Everything seems to be going absolutely crazy this time of year, with the exception of me. I check to see when the Lions are playing on TV in restaurants with TVs before heading somewhere else. I kept an eye on the Lions throughout the past few days, but I didn’t witness any losses.
I’ve disliked the game my entire life. When the sports editor was off for several months due to illness, I had to cover for her many years ago, back when the Item was still a daily. The sportswriters assumed that my dislike was due to my ignorance of the sport. Not at all.
In addition to being a fan of sports, my father was among the best informed about any given game. The sport was irrelevant. He was knowledgeable about all the insignificant details you could think of, including how, when, and who played it best. There was no better place to demonstrate why we used to refer to him (to his face) as a “bottomless quagmire of meaningless information” than in the sports world.
In order to inform his father and his friends about boxing fights, my father would poke his head into the horn that conveyed the sound from vintage radios when I was a child. With a job at Fenway Park, he paid his way through dental school. He worked as a minor league baseball team’s dentist in Springfield when he was younger. He authored a sports column for several newspapers before I was born. And from the day I was born, I spent every weekend and many weekday evenings curled up in front of the TV as he watched sports. I believe my mother did that in order to avoid fulfilling her role as a sports companion.
My dad used to watch one game on TV and listen to another game on the radio. Additionally, he would constantly be recording statistics in his flawless, little handwriting.
I detested every second of it. When I was old enough, I declared, “Enough,” and I went to my parents’ bedroom to watch the little, unreceiving black-and-white TV. The only time this didn’t happen was when I was a college student and occasionally went to a Fenway game. Some of my favorite characters from my youth, like Abdullah and Ameer, were still on the scene at the moment. Besides, I was usually heading out of a study session while I was at Fenway.” This is one area in my life that technology has genuinely improved.
Apologies, Lions of Detroit.
I am aware that I am a minority. Last weekend, almost everyone—even non-sports fans—wore Lions apparel. And somewhere, I’m sure, my father is watching me with disapproval. Maybe sitting in a recliner watching a game while listening to the radio, or maybe behind third base at Fenway Park, is where he envisions paradise.
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