I’m awfully tired of writing about the childishness that passes itself off as modern politics, so I thought I’d write about something different this week. I hope you don’t mind…

I used to be a rabid sports fan; my entire existence tied up in the fortunes of my teams. And then one of my teams got blown out in a championship game.

Now, when I say they got blown out, I mean it wasn’t close. The other guys beat my guys like my guys owed them money, or my guys tried to steal their girlfriends. The turning point of the game was when the other guys walked on the field. It was brutal.

I was distraught, downcast, depressed, dispirited, downhearted, and generally disappointed beyond measure. (And thank you, Mr. Roget, for providing so many “D”words to express my intense grief.) I was never going to smile again…

Lovely Wife and I had been married all of nine months at the time, so this was her first real taste of my sports fanaticism. She didn’t much care for it, because after witnessing her sweet baboo curse at the TV, she took the remote, turned off the TV, reached out her delicate Lovely Wife hand, and with the sweetest of smiles said, “Let’s take a walk.”

“”I don’t wanna,” I childishly snapped.

She gently tugged my hand, and gave me a loving look that said, “ I love you a bunch, dude, but there’s a marble rolling pin in the kitchen cabinet that will be taken upside your skeevy head if you don’t get up off that couch and go on a doggone walk.”

Mrs. Carter didn’t raise no foolish baby boys, so I complied. (Thus setting a marital dynamic in stone for the next 3 decades..)

And it was on that walk that she calmly and lovingly pointed out to me that despite my team’s misfortunes, she still loved me, I still had a job, my friends still liked me, my family wouldn’t shun me, and as much as I may have believed otherwise, the sun was going to rise the next morning..

I’d like to say that was a magic cure for my sports malaise, but I’m kinda slow. It took another few decades for the sickness to completely clear my system, but I’m proud to say I’m now cured Yes, I still have my favorite teams, but I no longer obsess over sports outcomes. Sports are merely entertainment, and I’m thoroughly entertained

I bring this up because I had to think of that story this past week as I watched the NBA Draft.

There were people there who obviously didn’t have Lovely Wives to gently explain priorities, and/or threaten grievous bodily marble rolling pin harm to them. They came in droves, dressed in their favorite team’s colors, (Some even painted their faces), to make fools of themselves in regard to the guys who were picked to play on their teams.

These people actually cheered and booed their team’s selections. As in, “Yay! We got the guy from Duke!” Or, “Boo! Why did those bums pick that guy from Duke?!”

Mind you, these fans, (Which, I must point out at this juncture is short for “fanatics,”) were cheering and booing guys who hadn’t played a second yet. And some of them probably went home that night as distraught about their team’s pick as I was so long ago about my team’s horrible loss.

Do Americans, as a rule, lead charmed lives or what? Some of us can actually be absolutely upset or utterly elated about who was picked to play for their favorite team. I can’t help but think these kerfuffled priorities might partially explain the political bickering I mentioned earlier.

Maybe the American body politic needs to have someone go upside its skeevy head with a marble rolling pin. (Or at least threaten it.)

It worked for me…

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