A man for all seasons?
When it comes to sports, the only offseason is a self-imposed one
At the start of his book True Believers, Joe Queenan wonders how many hours, days and weeks of his life he's spent watching sports. I say "spent" because I, a fellow addict, wince at the idea of calling them wasted.
But I have to admit summer often gives me a needed respite from the crowded schedule a fan of professional and college sports keeps. No March Madness. No Omaha. No Super Bowl. No Stanley Cup. No BCS race. No Yahoo! or ESPN pick ‘ems. When high temperatures and humidity unite to create the world's largest sauna in the South, only Major League Baseball is in season in the United States.
Don't get me wrong: I love baseball, both college and professional. Anyone who's read this blog with any regularity during the past year could attest to my near-euphoric state when Houston, my favorite team, eliminated Atlanta for the team's first-ever postseason series, as well as my excitement a couple of months ago about traveling to Omaha for the College World Series, despite my alma mater's absence from the eight-team field.
If you require more current evidence, this week I'm finding myself in the odd position of rooting for the Braves. I want them to go ahead and make their oh-so-predictable and inevitable leap over D.C. As my brother declared more than a month ago, "Don't kid yourself: The Nationals are who we're trying to catch for the wild-card race."
But baseball season, like the stretch for hockey, is long.


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