I like to watch ESPN. The Sports Network does an Entertaining job of presenting its Programming. Normally the biggest buzz-kill on my channel 33 is a 2 hour block of the X-Games or some NASCAR. Both are too highbrow for my blue collar tastes. Unfortunately, I have now had to absorb 14 consecutive days of Super Bowl saturation. Some of the pieces are interesting and I particularly enjoyed the round table with their bevy of ring winners. The irritating part is that the game seems ubiquitous.
For the first time phrases like "The Greatest Day in American Sports" and "Every Sports Fan's Christmas" have been tossed around like the softballs they are. I know more about Maurkice Pouncey's right ankle than I do about my own childhood. If I have to hear Goodell say "intense negotiations" one more time, I might slap someone. And, frankly, I don't care who wins the game. Yeah, they still play a game. Lost in the ostentatious pomp and circumstance is the fact that one of two been-there-done-that's are going add another trophy to an already teeming case. Maybe, cheering for the Browns (exactly 2 playoff appearances in the last 20 years, bounced from both by the Steelers) has left me a bit jaded. In fact, I can hear the ghost of Stu Scott jiving in my ear, "Don't hate the player! Hate the game!" Fine. I hate the game. I detest the NFL. I sincerely hope that there is no 2011 season and that the league never recovers. I hope the UFL ascends to become the predominant pro league.
Sport, playing sports, watching sports, is supposed to be fun. It is meant to offer us an escape from the mundane banality of our own drudgery. Sadly, ESPN and others have taken inside access to a Jersey Shore extreme. When the minutiae of a team's practice schedule transcends to relevant information, the highway is leading straight to the danger zone.
I know that I don't have to watch. I suppose that I could just grab my highlights on-line and put Scott Van Pelt on hiatus for a month, but, for me, SportsCenter is comfort. I fondly recall waking before 8am during summer vacations and pacing through the closing the overnight Bloomberg programming. That's right, ESPN wasn't even 24-hrs back in the day. Then, I would fritter away the next four hours watching the same (by same I mean 4 replays of the 2am broadcast) episode BtBtBtB. That's how I learned to love sports, all sports, in the first place. Sure, there was enhanced coverage of the big game, on-site coverage and such. Sure, the Super Bowl was the lead for a few days. Yet no one was selling $300 tickets to stand in the cold outside of the stadium to set the attendance record.
No, they are all organ meat in the same hot dog. It is all a part of the NFL marketing machine, the country's addiction to gladiator Soma. Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe the world is changing around me. My guess, though, is that the center cannot hold and this Ga-Trillion dollar mess will unravel quite soon. My Browns will fade away... again. What a shame.
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