The Calm Before the Storm

On ESPN2 Baron Davis is watching Roger Federer toy with some Amadeusian Mozart looking guy in the US Open and dressed like a flasher, and I’m watching it. There’s an actual meaningful baseball game on ESPN; a game I wouldn’t care much about had I not just spent a long weekend in Florida, hanging out with my rabid Rays fan of a cousin, Chester. I’ve just read a a lengthy article about Jake Delhomme that might be the best piece of “writing with perspective” I’ve read about the Panthers since that terrible, terrible night in January.

This is the calm before the storm, the final days before the start of the college football season, the aforementioned US (tennis) Open, etc. etc. Like a blossoming blossom of fanaticism, my mind is now framed within the economic context of the best part of the year for sports.

Some tips and thoughts, after El Jumpo.

About that Florida trip: I went to visit some family in Lakeland, home of the Dreadnaughts. Attending their one and only preseason game against Lake Gibson, I was initiated into the long, proud tradition of Florida high school football. It’s a spectacle Cap’n Pappy told us stories about, and something Mickey’s already been through. I was the guest of my grandaddy, the co-captain of the 1939 Dreadnaughts team. I know this because he showed me the letter jacket his wife had kept. It was that kind of weekend.

The Naughts made short work of their opponent, which was a secondary attraction. There was a jumbotron. There was a single-engine plane cruising the skies above the stadium with advertisements flashing across its metallic belly. My 86 year old host spent the majority of the night heckling the oft-flag-throwing officials. He’d berate them, and exclaim they were in the tank for the visitors squad. Bear in mind, at no point were the Naughts ever up by less than 10 points. It was beyond amazing. If you ever have the opportunity to spend an evening under the lights, in the shadow of the local hospital–a fortuitous placement for my uncle and countless others who had severe injuries and were aided quickly– I highly recommend you take it.

At present, this Tom C. Hulse-lookin’ muthaflogga over here is testing Federer the Black more than anyone would’ve guessed. This may be the cynic in me, but Federer’s so dominant, I think he can control how entertaining he wants his opening rounds to be, and does so accordingly. Rog makes it interesting when he wants to.

College Football is back this week. CBS is usually kind enough out here in LA to show an SEC game in the morning, which is bodacious. Other than sheer entertainment, I enjoy the seriousness with which people tailgate in college football. I attended the 2006 Rose Bowl and they parked us in the 14th fairway of some golf course. My car was in the shop, and I had a tiny rental. We still packed a hibachi grill and cooked out burgers, surrounded by Texans who’d traveled 2000 miles to eat out of county fair booths. Suckers.

Checking in with the Rays and Red Sox reveals Tampa up 5-3 in the sixth. Baseball’s ridiculously boring to watch on tv, but September marks the beginning where it’ll be decent background noise while I’m making dinner. (Federer won. Kim Cattrall looks like she needs to effed.) But yeah, baseball, getting somewhat more interesting.

So enjoy these last dog days of summer. If you’re like me, you’re gonna leave your charred and burning town for the cooler confines of Buffalo, NY for (what else?) a wedding. It’ll be my first time amongst those exceptionally passionate Bills fans, and I hope to spend at least one night, under cover, getting really sad, beautiful tales out of those fans who know the meaning of heartbreak more so than, dare I say, even the Panther fans. Kick back, grill some meat, and enjoy a John Daly.

Share/Save