Let me tell you about my sports pals, daily communicators on email during our work days. All names have been changed to protect the guilty and because I like inventing fake names and, for that matter, fake blogs.
We all loathe Duke and UNC. Homer can't stand Roger Clemens and several thousand other professional athletes. He is the King Tut of sports cynics. Nobody is to be believed. Anything untoward an athlete does, such as shoot steroids, is to be expected. Homer remains forever wedded to Dan Marino, his boyhood idol, and the Miami Dolphins of 1972. He knows they are now terrible and this really bugs him.
Conrad, by far the best golfer in our close-knit clique, is neurotic about Tiger Woods because his hero is Jack Nicklaus. Tiger might one day win 19 Major golf championships and pass Jack as the all-time leader and snare the title as the greatest golfer of all time from Conrad's boy, the Golden Bear. Call him Conrad Conspiracy Theory when it comes to Tiger. Just this week he went wild about the dropped ball flap involving Tiger in the final round of the TPC Sawgrass. (By the way, whoever came up with the name for this tourney is cool. Don't you love how TPC Sawgrass sounds?)
Conrad is as suspicious of Tiger's integrity and personality as Homer is of Barry Bonds. Both are hardened yet knowledgeable sports fans; insightful at times, too.
Then there's Jordy. A beer connoisseur, he rarely gushes about Budweiser. He's always talking about some beers he adores I've never heard of usually dark ones that taste like ashes. Jordy also likes sports the way Justin Bieber likes pop music. (My college roommate's last name was Bieber but he didn't sing but studied a lot. This is a worthless aside to my narrative.). Jordy knows about more sports than the rest of us. He is our Elias Sports Bureau. You won't find a guy on Earth with more deep passions about more different sports, although he doesn't care for women's softball. He opines that the women make too much crackling noises from the dugouts. I agree.
Morty has a thing for the business side of sports, the greed. He follows the money and doesn't believe many athletes are especially good people. He also likes the Chicago Bears and Philadelphia Eagles. No one on Earth likes both of those teams besides him. Midwesterners and East Coasters, especially those from Philly, don't mix. Many fans root for one or the other but not both. In the basketball arena, Morty has disdain for Michael Jordan, which would take a long time to explain here. Suffice it to say Jordan played for UNC, and we all dislike UNC (see paragraph two).
Quincy, well, he's tough to figure out. He claims to follow the NBA but doesn't seem to have a favorite team. You often can catch him admitting to watching mid-season barn burners between the Washington Wizards and Atlanta Hawks. He'll know who led the Wiz in scoring that night. To Quincy it doesn't matter how many dozens of games out of first place the Wiz are. He watches. But no one in the NBA seems to draw him in from a rooting standpoint. He stands on the sidelines of the NBA daily and observes. He comments about something on occasion such as the Lakers being dysfunctional. He always knows the latest NBA buzz, which player or players are acting like jerks. In-depth commentary about any of this, however, is not Quincy. He might email us a few words about something, but only that. The NBA to him isn't worth more of his brain cells and. There is a dichotomy between the amount of time he spends watching and the amount of commentary he shares.
Then there is Marvin. He much prefers to comment on gun control legislation. The only sports he knows are shooting guns and lifting weights. All others to him are a bigger waste of time than talking about dry wall. He doesn't have a dog as far as I know, so that's really saying something. Once in a while Marvin will weigh in on a sports topic but only if it has a religious or political angle or a woman involved. Sports nuts don't get life, in his mind. We need to read the Bible and study the American Constitution and Bill of Rights and Farmer's Almanac. We should aspire to be Renaissance men, he believes. But we aren't. Knowledge of everything trumps knowledge of sports, in his mind. Sports are a few ants meandering mindlessly at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro.
As for me-call me Larry Bird--I like to think about climbing Mount Kilimanjaro and then not do so. I'm all thoughts and no action. This causes weight gain. I can't fit in many of my clothes but, hey, many people can't. I have a theory that if you get in shape and fit in your clothes, you are bound to eventually gain weight again and not fit in your clothes. The Circle of Life reigns. I grant Larry the right to theorize all he wants because he was the greatest basketball player who ever lived.
To me, food is sport. McDonalds, Burger King and Taco Bell beckon me to their drive-thru windows at least five or six times a week. While driving there, I listen to sports talk shows on the radio. This is when I get my athletic exercise. My brain burns calories. Analysis causes me to sweat. My pores open to be filled by the Wendy's Double Baconator.
Have you ever tasted one of these monsters? The mixture of mayonnaise and ketchup differentiates. Blending these two sauces is not often done on fast food burgers and, let me tell you, it really tastes good, sort of like honey on toast but different. The second best feature of the Baconator is the two thick rectangular burgers stacked on top of each other. It's so thick you need to open your mouth like an opera singer to take a bite.
This is exercise. This is sport.
And these are my sports pals.