Peter Pan’s Diffident Lament

Here we are, in jockdom’s Most Wonderful Time of the Year — NBA and NHL playoffs, college basketball just finished, baseball beginning, Master’s golf if you consider golf a sport, the NFL draft if you’re in serious need of therapy — and I’m worried. I do hop on a couple of times a week to see who’s beating whom in hoops. I live in Ottawa, so the briefest dalliance with local JockRadio tells me more about the NHL smash-mouth Olympics than, strictly speaking, I actually need to know. I guess I’m saying that my personal sports mania may need a shot of sildenafil citrate.

(And I’m not really “worried”. I’m not a complete Peter Pan, and while I’ve often said that my own immaturity was an advantage in relating to kids, I’m not completely opposed to putting away childish things. But it’s interesting. Year after year, I find that I’m content with knowing just a little bit less about pro sports. Watchin’ every last game? No need. I’ve seen so many that it’s much more efficient, if I really feel the need, to read a game summary and say Hmm. The Spurs went out in five to the Mavericks. I like the Spurs. So I read to find out why they lost. No Ginobili. Big numbers for Parker and the Big Fundamental, but not enough. So there you go.)

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