My friends have always denied their addiction, but now they're desperate and the defenses are slipping away. I think they're lucky it’s not a deadly habit like opioids, but that's not going to stop the whining.
A few weeks ago, they were on top of the world, with dealers feeding their jones at any hour and any place. They were getting it in bed, at the gym, at work, anyplace they wanted a fix. Then the joyride ended and they're cut off until, well, nobody really knows.
March Madness? Gone. NBA finals? Gone. Baseball? Gone. Masters? Gone. Olympics? Probably gone, as well.
I hoped they'd use this opportunity to break the habit, but I suspect they're too panicked to be smart about it. I can see them now, streaming grainy video from the 1980 Olympics and 60-year-old episodes of Home Run Derby. Next, they'll be scoring a quick hit off Little League World Series reruns, but the high will fade after a few minutes and it's back to whimpering about free agents.
I know I should have some sympathy, but I don’t. For as long as I remember, they've spent more time on the Bears offense than with their kids. Actually, that might be a good thing, since their kids have turned out pretty well while the Bears offense is, well, the Bears offense.
Like millions of other sports addicts, they know the stats for players on the local high school teams, all the pro players in town, and everyone on their fantasy baseball teams. Also fantasy football, along with basketball, badminton and sculling, but nothing after that.
Does Fremont remember the $50 he owes me from last month? Does Albert remember whose turn it is to buy the next round? Does Percival remember his anniversary? C’mon, we all know the answer to those questions. All they crave is sports and they probably won't survive until their next fix.
Meanwhile, I’m hoping this global off-season lasts for a long time. Finally, I can spend a day without news bulletins about some guy’s groin injury.
Beyond my own glee, this is a major opportunity for medical advancement. I’ve always maintained that we could have cured cancer by now if people spent as much time and money on research as they do on sports. Okay, sports addicts, it’s your big chance to be heroes. Don’t blow it.
Will my friends give up on sports and cure cancer? Will they finally pay me the $50 they owe me? Find out by clicking here to subscribe to our weekly updates.
Who writes this stuff?
Dadwrites oozes from the warped mind of Michael Rosenbaum, an award-winning author who spends most of his time these days as a start-up business mentor, book coach, photographer and, mostly, a grandfather. All views are his alone, largely due to the fact that he can’t find anyone who agrees with him.