This is ordinarily the very worst time of the sports year. Sure, the NBA Finals are being played at a very high level, but they play one game every fortnight. Until recently, the NHL was still being force-fed to us, but that recently (and mercifully) ended. Major League Baseball (apart from the recent epidemic of perfect games) is still months away from being compelling. NASCAR is still televised weekly. College baseball would be great, but it’s televised slightly more than Sinead O’Connor’s appearance on Saturday Night Live.
We’re just stuck in that awful lull between March Madness and preseason football, with just enough Major golf tournaments sprinkled in to retain sanity.
And this is usually okay with me. I have plenty of yardwork and home projects to do, so not being tied to sports on television is good for my marriage, my health, and my feeble attempts at a suntan. And there are lots of hot girls who come out of the woodwork when the weather heats up. However, they’re not as good for my marriage as the yardwork is.
But this year is different. First of all, we have the World Cup. Now, I’m not a soccer fan (I know nothing about the game; I’m from the South), but I do enjoy the passion of international sports on the largest possible stage. Also, as I get older, I seem to enjoy immersing myself in things I don’t understand. To that end, I’m going to read Umberto Eco novels while I watch the games. I think it will add to the experience.
On top of that, we have the NCAA conference realignment crisis. Yes, I said crisis, not to be confused with that minor inconvenience in the Gulf of Mexico. The nuclear arms race came to a head this week with Colorado tricking the Pac 10 into thinking it brings something to the table, and Nebraska finding its rightful place in the Corn Belt. And it’s only just begun. I have no idea what will happen, but I’m preparing for every possible scenario from A to Z. Preparation for H has been the most soothing.
If that’s not enough, we have the biggest free agency in the history of the universe. LeBron James, supreme athlete, alleged basketball superstar, and part-time teammate, is the crown jewel of the NBA free agency market. This story has it all: money, power, intrigue, Russian billionaires, and the Norman Rockwell-esque vistas of Cleveland and Newark. Any number of coaches are said to be in play. Calipari. Izzo. Krzyzewski. Phil Jackson. John Wooden. Oh wait; scratch that. His name came up in a different story I think. Regardless, stay tuned. It’s going to be an incredible ride.
This has also been the summer of the cheat. UConn basketball received notice of several major NCAA violations. Kentucky basketball is being investigated for allegedly using an ineligible player. USC finally got punished for football violations that occurred before Barack Obama was a household name. Kansas is apparently a front for the mafia. Okay, that might not be accurate, but they are in some sort of ticket scandal I haven’t had time to really read about or understand. The NCAA is kicking ass and taking names. I look for Corey Maggette to end up in the witness protection program by August.
Fasten your seatbelts, folks. Summer hasn’t even officially started yet. Who knows what may be yet to come. Baseball might adopt instant replay. Al Davis might make a savvy personnel decision. Rasheed Wallace might keep his damn mouth shut. Tiger Woods might be able to tell his wife from someone else’s.
The possibilities are endless.
great synopsises, I laughed out loud twice.