I think I’ve told you this before that I first became interested in sports when the copy of Sports Illustrated for my dad’s office was mistakenly delivered to our house. Sports journalists have amazing powers. I never thought I could care about a baseball prospect in Texas, but SI writers could make anyone interesting. So it started with stories and then translated into my real life.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out that where there were sports there were usually boys. Boys were interesting. The funny thing is that I didn’t stay as faithful to any of those particular boys as I stayed to our shared loved for the Mizzou Tigers. (And that’s all the information you’re going to get about that for this post!)
I eventually got married (to a non-Tiger fan) and my tolerance for watching sports has played heavily into our successful run of nearly 12 years of marriage. Case in point: This weekend Dan and I sat down for the evening and he said, “I taped a new episode of that drama you like, or we could catch the end of whatever game is on ESPN.”
“Basketball sounds good.”
“I love you so much!”
Now with our son, Jesse, playing on his own teams and watching televised sports with us, the usefulness of those first Sports Illustrated magazines in my life cannot be overestimated!
Confession: On Sunday Jesse and I watched way too many hours of basketball related TV. Second confession: It was totally worth it, even when (combined with the curse of Daylight Savings Time) we both had trouble settling down to sleep!
March is my favorite for several reasons: my birthday (on the 27th), the arrival of Spring, and the NCAA Basketball Tournament. Sunday Jesse and I watched the Selection Show and began our descent into the time-consumer that is called Bracketology. We mourned and rejoiced over the placement of our favorite teams. We listened to a couple of hours of analysis. We clicked and clicked to fill out our brackets online, knowing that what seems so obvious now will be obliterated by this time next week. We even watched a documentary on the great Duke teams from 91 and 92 (“Coach K was coaching back then?!”). Basically, we breathed in basketball all afternoon and most of the evening.
And we have three more weeks of this! Sing it with me now, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
Thanks, Rick Reilly!