A FAN’S NOTES

Goodbye to All That

On the first day of the year, the morning after its coldest night, it’s time to pause and reflect on the recent past. Because I’m a deep thinker, my topic is sports. My consumption of this form of entertainment is off the chart; it barely registers anymore.

Last summer I attended three Edmonton Prospects games. The ball is low level, collegiate. The attraction is the yard situated down on the river flats. The grandstand offers a sweeping view of the city’s skyline up on the ridge and the stacks of the disused Pink Floyd power station behind the left field wall. The park is a different backdrop for banter and beer with friends.

I made an effort to turn on the television for just one major league game this season, game seven of the World Series. I cannot sit still for four hours. I took three innings off to go outside and shovel freshly fallen snow. I spent time in the kitchen grinding coffee for the morrow. I puttered around the house, fussing, straightening, put the garbage and recycling out in the alley.

Football was my best sport in high school and here out west football still matters. The clubs existed long before professional hockey set down roots. In November I got around to paying attention. I tuned into four games: the Canadian university Vanier Cup championship, the Canadian Football League’s East and West finals, and the Grey Cup finale. While the games were being played I managed to vacuum the house and scrub the shower and the bath.

I have not seen a single down of American football this fall or winter. I used to follow the Green Bay Packers and Chicago Bears. I can’t quite put my finger on what turned me off exactly. Just like baseball, jingoism disguised as patriotism invaded the stadia. Politics turned up and said, “Watch this, hold my keg.” The inane, jargon-heavy commentary from the broadcast booth became intolerable. I tired of judging the morals and ethics of the interchangeable players, the owners and the executive.

Hockey when played skillfully and creatively is the greatest sport on Earth. That’s my Canadian bias, an opinion from a country defined by winter. The game, like other sports, has curdled, over-coached, overly specialized and like football, made boring to watch, a tremendously difficult achievement. Like football, hockey’s protective gear has become weaponized, utterly altering the dynamic of the sport. Conversely, but related, armoured baseball batters have no qualms about crowding the plate no matter how hard the pitcher throws. The end goals of these matches have not changed but the means have been fundamentally buggered.

I love the Montreal Canadiens. I have made just three attempts to watch their games on television since the hockey season revved up in the fall before Thanksgiving. I left the sound off on each occasion because coiffed, concussed talking heads have nothing to say to me. The team itself is a marketer’s nightmare, unexciting and lousy. They’re done. Game on! Think I’ll go and sweep out the garage or get down on my hands and knees and scrub the baseboards in the hallway.

I have not watched a sports channel newscast in more than a year. I’ve not looked at highlights on any digital platform. I still open my morning newspaper to the sports section, as has been my custom for 45 years. I don’t read the columns of type, just scan the headlines and the words jump out like a potboiler jacket blurb: money, sex, drugs, domestic violence, dementia, death.

The magic of sport remains the lure of a narrative with, ideally, an unpredictable ending. The saturation of stories makes them matter less and less, too many games on too many nights. Still, all of us, the fans, can join together with our tribe and rally against a common enemy. Unfortunately, the enemies are now too numerous and anonymous to get worked up about.

I must conclude from my shrunken viewing habits and my declining interest that the spectacle of sport no longer provides a worthwhile distraction from the day-to-day realities of my ever-shortening life. There are far more enjoyable and interesting ways to spend my time, squander it even.