ESPN - The Muzak of My Life

Ummm...is it just me who is tired of hearing Brett Favre's name? I'm not a big sports fan and my sports of choice are basketball and a close second with baseball. My wonderful hubby who has a rabid love of almost any activity involving a ball, commentator, scoreboard and overpriced tickets follows them all. ESPN is the Muzak of my life and that's OK because it makes him happy. Surprisingly enough over the years aspects of it have become cozy, comforting and happy to me. But really, enough is enough. Brett Favre do me a favre* and make up your mind!

We wake up every morning to "Mike and Mike" and yes, I'm now disappointed when Greeny is on vacation and was sincerely concerned and saddened when Golic's father in law recently passed away. I excitedly asked hubby the other day if he noticed more bobbleheads on their desk but I don't think I got an answer and I think it is Brett Favre's fault. When Greeny recently recounted the details of their visit to the Oval Office, hubby asked me a question just as the Mike on the left was sharing a tidbit about presidential portraits and I, yes me, shushed him so as not to miss a fabulous detail of my morning buddies' visit the political shrine. 

Growing up it was only baseball, other sports didn't interest my father. There wasn't any 24/7 sports reporting to dull the senses around the clock. His year began with spring training and ended with the world series. A good game with his Miracle Mets winning brought a smile and giddy laughter to my father's lips. 

In the 60s and 70s we took many long dreary car trips from New York to New Jersey to see Mom's family. Lindsey Nelson and Bob Murphy's voices filled the cavernous interior giving the game's play by play. I'd stare off out the window, bored to tears.  My brother shared my father's love of the game and somehow my mother put up with it. I never could understand how my strong willed mother, who had no interest in sports tolerated it. She sat back quietly and didn't get in the way. Now I get it - it made him happy. This was long before the time when parents obsessed over their kids being sufficiently entertained during car trips and I struggled to keep myself occupied. Counting trees, peering through the unshaded windows of apartment buildings, counting the number of brown vehicles on the way to our destination were my only salvation. 

If we were home and the Mets were playing, Dad could be found in 'his' recliner cheering them on. Getting his attention on anything other than the game was impossible. "Not now babe, it's almost over", I'd sulk and sit on the sticky gold naughahide couch waiting for a commercial break to catch him. I certainly was Daddy's Girl and always knew he'd do anything for me, but baseball was baseball and the moments of extreme joy and frustration it brought could never be interrupted. I missed Dad when the game was on. Any other time I could get his attention with the blink of an eye but from my first memory I was a baseball orphan. 

I always welcomed the interview show "Kiner's Corner" at the end of a Mets game. That was a time of conversation and the show did interest me. I liked learning about the personalities behind the men who captivated Dad's attention. The people and their stories drew me in and that was a transition time where Dad and I got to reconnect. 

One of my fondest memories was when Dad took me to his Men's Club meeting for the meet and greet with Tug McGraw. I'd seen that him up close and personal as I sat inches away from "Kiner's Corner" time and time again, but to see the smile of pride on Dad's face as one of his favorites told him what a beautiful little girl he had was a gift I will forever treasure. It was a moment. A moment that brought his two worlds together for me and then made it okay. I started to resent the game less and it was really okay.

Okay, none of this was Brett Favre's fault.

So now in my ESPN world my week begins and ends with "The Sports Reporters". I miss Dick Schaap and his warm, gentle approach but do enjoy John Saunders and think he's a good dresser. Bob Ryan bugs me and every time I see him I have an overwhelming urge to write and recommend my favorite self tanner. Mike Lupica is fine but a little too full of himself and I'm so curious about Mitch Albom's ears it has led me to do a a few Google searches on the subject. Today is Sunday and while we are getting a late start, my husband is almost ready to que up the DVR and get our week underway. I have my fingers crossed that we'll hear more about the Olympics in Beijing and less about Brett Favre. 

*The writer does know the correct pronunciation of the aforementioned quarterback's name, however admits to it taking her a while to get it right when she first saw the spelling a number of years ago. Said writer finds humor (however poor it may be) in playing with Mr. Favre's name in the context of this stream of consciousness.