Geek Time
My boy Sam is in geek heaven right now. We had the first of the fantasy baseball drafts the other night, the Sabres are making every effort for the playoffs, and God help us the NCAA brackets are ready to be filled out. He is running all over the house, on high alert for every single score change.
Like me, it isn't so much about the games for Sam. It's more about shouting out his opinions, getting ink on his arms from circling who won what game when and letting us all know that he forgot more about sports than any of us will ever know. (He stole that line from somebody).
On Saturday night I was watching another expertly Kathy-chosen movie. It was the first movie I've seen in about three months that didn't have Ryan Gosling in it. It took me awhile but I figured out that little mystery.
If my wife was looking for a Ryan Gosling type she missed the boat by a couple of oceans and a large continent.
Regardless, Sam was in the other room, screaming at the television as he watched the Sabres game.
"He's a mess," I said.
"What do you think happened to him?" Kathy asked.
Hard to say really.
Yet when I was his age I recall all of the games being played and the pressure of the new baseball season starting. I punched a fireplace when the Sabres were eliminated in about 1977.
"They'll win it next year," my father said. And he laughed.
Still waiting.
But the beauty of sports, of course, is that there is always another season. There's always a moment when you can say, 'I told you so.'
The NCAA pool that we get into each year has had four winners from our household.
Matt won it all last year - and he's been able to really stretch that win out...it has provided him a car, new tires, a full year at St. Bonaventure and a dozen hockey games. Whenever he does something that is costly I ask him where he's getting the money - "From my NCAA win," he says.
Jake won it all the year before. He has never once watched a full basketball game, but to his brothers undying aggravation he collected the big prize without even glancing at the final game. He spent his winnings in about thirty seconds.
And then there's me. Thankfully I've won the big prize twice. I am apt to mention it to my sons, oh once every six minutes during this time of year.
God help us if Sam ever produces the winning entry.
That's all I can say.
God help us.
He came out talking and I'm sure he's got his: "You're sooooo stupid speech all worked out."
Like me, it isn't so much about the games for Sam. It's more about shouting out his opinions, getting ink on his arms from circling who won what game when and letting us all know that he forgot more about sports than any of us will ever know. (He stole that line from somebody).
On Saturday night I was watching another expertly Kathy-chosen movie. It was the first movie I've seen in about three months that didn't have Ryan Gosling in it. It took me awhile but I figured out that little mystery.
If my wife was looking for a Ryan Gosling type she missed the boat by a couple of oceans and a large continent.
Regardless, Sam was in the other room, screaming at the television as he watched the Sabres game.
"He's a mess," I said.
"What do you think happened to him?" Kathy asked.
Hard to say really.
Yet when I was his age I recall all of the games being played and the pressure of the new baseball season starting. I punched a fireplace when the Sabres were eliminated in about 1977.
"They'll win it next year," my father said. And he laughed.
Still waiting.
But the beauty of sports, of course, is that there is always another season. There's always a moment when you can say, 'I told you so.'
The NCAA pool that we get into each year has had four winners from our household.
Matt won it all last year - and he's been able to really stretch that win out...it has provided him a car, new tires, a full year at St. Bonaventure and a dozen hockey games. Whenever he does something that is costly I ask him where he's getting the money - "From my NCAA win," he says.
Jake won it all the year before. He has never once watched a full basketball game, but to his brothers undying aggravation he collected the big prize without even glancing at the final game. He spent his winnings in about thirty seconds.
And then there's me. Thankfully I've won the big prize twice. I am apt to mention it to my sons, oh once every six minutes during this time of year.
God help us if Sam ever produces the winning entry.
That's all I can say.
God help us.
He came out talking and I'm sure he's got his: "You're sooooo stupid speech all worked out."
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