My son lives in Boston so some of you know what that means. He lives, drinks, eats and shits sports. Earlier this year at Christmas I interrupted one of his long winded recitations of the Patriots’ season, players, coaches, games, injurie, ETC., ETC. with, “Son, you know, how about we talk about your getting married, having kids, getting back to God, and the dire political straits our country is in….you know, let’s talk reality.” He sulked.
A few weeks later my wife and I were driving across the south Texas desert at night and I tuned into AM radio by chance and heard the last quarter of the Giants-Patriots regular season game (I believe it was #14.) The Patriots were miraculously coming back after a tremendous effort by the Giants. I found myself getting so excitied I pulled my car off the road. The wife woke up and together, in the desert, we listened to one of the best games (next to the subsequent Superbowl rematch) that we had ever heard or seen. I was in tears.
I suppose somehow sports grabs our hearts because it is the mataphor, the rehearsal of what life is all about and what stirs the heart of everyman – the epic battle in life between right and wrong, between good and evil. Some live that battle and sports innocuously confrims it. Some have sat out the battle on the sidelines and for them sports is their only experience of what true life is about.
Either way, it’s magic. (Go Spurs.)
