Every sports fan has their unique story that is really so common it unites us all. Whether it was a poorly planned wedding of a close friend or relative, that falls on the same Saturday Ohio State plays Michigan. Or a camping trip that a wife planned months and months out, where you end up staring into a fire pit while listening to the creek babbling by. Not too bad, unless the Yankees are playing the Red Sox to decide the winner of the American League or Kessler is fighting Froch, and Adamek and Arreola are brawling, and you're tempted to knock on the nearest and fanciest, loaded RV to ask if they get Showtime and HBO.
Or, get this, you(I) agreed to run a sprint-triathlon with members of the family which started at 7 am on Sunday, June 20th. And on Saturday the 19th, you(I) are all crammed into a cabin near the race, in deep, deep Georgia. But what really connects us even more than being deprived some of those sports moments, is the lengths we are willing to go, to NOT HEAR and NOT SEE the OUTCOME, so we can watch it as if it were live.
Admittedly it is far harder to stay away from the football score. Because it means not only avoiding the TV where scrolling tickers have made it even more perilous. But the radio where every five minutes the listener is blasted with the same updates, any neighbor or friend or even just overhearing someone in the grocer. You've got to wrap yourself in a cocoon, and at the same time, wanting to know the outcome so bad, it qualifies as yes, wait for it...a cocoon of horror!
But now-a-days boxing is quite easier. Few are talking about it on the radio...as we all wait on some BAD LEFT HOOK RADIO! You might think you hear someone talking about it at the grocer, but they said boxes...not boxers. And avoiding ESPN for a day will insure you won't see the result scrolled on TV. And avoiding ESPN is actually pretty pleasant most to the time.
So really all I had to do was send out texts to all my fellow boxing enthusiasts and friends explaining my situation, so they the realize in this case, my ignorance really is bliss. Now all that is left is to avoid BLH at all times...well most of the time.
It ain't easy. Since I found the site, I visit often. Very often. I read almost all the stuff. I've found it comprehensive enough that it is the only boxing site I go to. The insight from the regulars in the comments and fan posts, and info and opinions from the contributors, are colored with wit and insight that allows me to seem witty and insightful when I talk with those outside the site.
But I couldn't avoid it all together. So, when reading the comments from a fanpost I previously wrote, I leaned a piece of strangely shaped cardboard against 85% of the screen to block any articles or fan posts that may ruin the secret. I treated the mission as delicately as a old-time doctor removing stitches and as dramatically as a Detective on CSI Miami. And so far, it has been successful.
So here I am. It's on the DVR right now. It's been tormenting me since I arrived home Sunday afternoon, "just be callin' me man, it be callin' me, man..." like crack to Pookie in the classic movie, NEW JACK CITY. But I'm gonna stand firm. (we know what happened to Pookie when he gave in.)
I'm waiting until Saturday Night. Its proper place. The kids in bed, the wife in bed, the stiff Vodka and grapefruit in my relaxed hand. A scorecard and pen placed beside me. Ward and Green in front of me. And a week of self-imposed torment behind me.