Last night, it happened again.
We sat, under a billion watts of blinding light, and waited for a race to end. Saturday night we lost just 6 minutes to a Busch series race, which is really NASCAR’s minor leagues. Then Sunday, as was expected, the big race in California kept us off the air until 12:17.
There are usually just 4 of us in the studio when we’re in a delay, usually the same 4 souls. The weathergirl is from Kansas and her husband’s a big sports guy, while both members of our floor crew love those speeding cars. Same people, same situation, invariably the same debate.
Is NASCAR a sport?
You almost certainly have an opinion.
As a certified sports junkie, I subscribe to nearly every sports magazine, watch every sports show, and have 3 of my XM presets tuned to all sports stations. And in every meduim, it’s POKER getting the “SPORTS?” treatment. I suppose it’s because the sbobet is carried on ESPN. Perhaps it’s because the New York Times has added the game to it’ “Sport” section. In any event, the big wigs of sport are certainly taking their shots.
The first real salvo, at least the first I saw, came from Rick Reilly. In his usually fantastic column he wrote, “This poker craze is the biggest waste of time since Stevie Wonder went to a mime festival.” I almost swore off the poker content based on the stale humor alone.
Here are his major complaints:
1) The game is easy. Chris Moneymaker won a HUGE tournament after “having played the game on the Internet for three years.” Can you imagine, asks Reilly with no sense of hyperbole, “somebody taking up basketball three years ago and suddenly becoming the leading scorer in the NBA?”
2) The game …
Last night, it happened again.
In each of the last few years I’d mark off the days with an “X”, a full cross from corner to corner. It made my At-A-Glance calendar look like a cheap hillbilly quilt. For awhile I’d make the slash right at punchout time, just after I logged out of the system. After a year or so that time sbobet moved up, and I’d cast the day aside before heading out to lunch. Now, I don’t make a mark at all.
Of course, even the NAMES of days help mark the passage of life. I promise to kill the next co-worker who laments “another Monday”. Its not as if Tuesday will be any different. Really, you’re just waiting for the weekend, which means you’re willing to fast-foreward nearly 5/7 of your entire life.
By MY math
I’m an overweight smoker with a high-stress life. When my wife makes a healthy meal I’m careful to avoid anything that ever, directly, turned the sun into fuel. I’ve started hitting the gym again and, while my workout is much the same as ever, it hurts a lot more than it ever did before. Today, before leaving for work, i heard this gem :
Older child : Mommy, what’s a diet?
Mommy : You don’t need to worry about it sweetie. You eat healthy food.
Older child : So who DOES use a “diet”?
Mommy : Well, it wouldn’t kill your father.
When my lifestlye chokes me, it’ll leave that frozen smile of marital bliss. God help me!
I figure that clock, the human sundial, can run another 30 years. That’s the best case scenario. If so, that’s 10,955 days (with 5 leap years included). Only 3130 of those days are on the weekend. It would be a shame to ignore the rest.