This will all be over on Sunday when our Chicago Bears host the Indianapolis Colts. That’s when our summer of sports discontent finally comes to an end.
It’s also when our “sports frenzy” will spike a notch or two, when the butterflies flitter in our guts again before being doused in liquid barley. That’s when we’ll again teeter precipitously on the edge of the couch, when we’ll reach for the Tostito chip and drown it in salsa without ever taking our eyes off the television screen. Soon, we will once again slip into that blissful place of passive tranquility.
We tried to get there last Saturday night by rooting for Michigan to upset Alabama, but that went nowhere in a hurry. And we thought — or prayed — that the Cubs would be at least respectable and somewhat watchable at this stage in the season, but we’d rather go bowling with the family than watch our beloved team sink further and further into Houston Astros territory.
We only know that the White Sox, who we don’t follow nor care to, are having troubles and the Tigers, who we do hold an interest in due to our childhood affinity for all things Magnum, P.I., are doing well. So there is that, but we’re not ready to dust off that Tigers cap and throw on the Hawaiian shirt just yet. Besides, the red Ferrari is in the shop, its mini-van engine on the fritz.
Instead we’re looking forward to Sunday. We’re looking forward to the aloof Jay Cutler slinging passes to the proud Brandon Marshall, to Matt Forte living up to his multimillion-dollar contract, to the aging Brian Urlacher playing on that bum knee he had a Buddhist monk heal with the blood of a mountain goat in Tibet just before training camp opened.
We’ve reluctantly endured this hiatus ever since the Bulls’ Derrick Rose suffered his season-ending knee injury back in late April. It was a long, difficult summer. We had to spend time with the kids, do yard work, actually be engaged in everyday life outside of sports. We couldn’t just nod and agree during discussions while sneaking peeks at the television in the restaurant. We stared creepily at the person sitting across from us while they told about the exploits of the latest bum on the Blue Line. And we were genuinely fascinated!
We weren’t emotionally distant. We were sensitive to the needs of others. We were attentive to things other than gamesmanship. It’s for sure something we never want to experience again in our lifetime.
So come Sunday, it’ll be alright. Come Sunday, we’ll be holding you tight, sports, that which is pertinent to our individual well-being in this world. We spent four lonely months in a haze, and we just want you back by our side.
Contact: bspencer@oakpark.com
Twitter: @oakparksports
