Sports? Of Course. But Not Automatically.

45 is after the sports moguls. He wants games, damn it.

Remember: Once again, this is all about him. Him, not anyone else. He's bored. Yes, so are we. But we don't matter.

He does. First, foremost and only. That's why he wants the stadiums filled up: That guarantees that there will be games. He really doesn't like his job, you know. He has to deal with difficult questions because he's so bad at it, so he needs an outlet that he can watch.

And neither does he know how to be a president. It's about making decisions, and owning up to them, first and foremost. Anyone knows how to do that; it's a matter of wanting to. And he doesn't want to. He'd rather watch games, rather than sneak in watching them while doing the rest of his job. Big difference.

He'd also rather play golf, and he probably will do so sooner rather than later. It's the one sport that others are playing, playing because they have lots of money. The public courses aren't open. They can't sustain themselves. On top of the disease, the middle class has to watch while the rich play.

If sports returns, it may be an indicator that the economy has recovered. But urging the sports to ramp up again won't do it. Running games with few people watching won't gain favor for any spectator sports management. Having the games, by themselves, won't bring the economy back, especially at the ticket prices that are being charged nowadays.

Above all, the athletes have to be re-trained. You can throw a basketball out on any court and expect a pick-up game, but when that much money's on the line, no coach will willingly do that and no game will reach the quality it once had. So the NBA can't just magically return. Either.

45 thinks so because of the way games took over our culture gradually but definitely.  They have achieved a level of importance way out of line with what they were originally meant to be: Either a way to improve one's physical condition, or to serve as a distraction from our humdrum lives.

"Distraction" means temporary, but the concentration of thinking about our games has become an obsession--so much so that gambling is now permitted in every state. All that money, now, just sitting there. Must be driving the bettors crazy.

It's another non-essential pastime. And I wonder how it will return when we're done with this terrible time.

That's right: non-essential. In a way. But in another way, every bit as essential as breathing.

The American male thrives on sports. He lives on them. They connect time for him, especially the football season, whether college or pro. There are too many games in other sports, like baseball or basketball; too much to focus on any one game, except in the playoffs, and even then in the finals.

I write this having played four sports in high school, three in one year of college, and two in the rest. I wasn't great in any of them, merely competent with occasional flashes of brilliance. So I know of the grip that sports can have. (Why did I do it? Because something inside of me had to stay busy. And it was fun.)

But playing Division III college sports without a scholarship to do so adjusted my thinking about it, steering it in the more idealistic mode of sharpening mind and body together. When taken in this way, the whole endeavor becomes wholistic and not an end unto itself. And certainly not important as a way to create income.

Maybe, had I been better (and I just missed a Division I scholarship to play football at Northwestern), my thinking would have been different. But the ivory tower of the small, well-to-do liberal arts atmosphere impressed itself on me. I understand the obsession with big-time college sports because I came close enough to it, but what it means in the totality of the world has been greatly overemphasized and twisted out of reasonable analysis. The machine of big-time sports operates on its own now, almost without the need to figure itself out. Too much money involved, anyhow.

Friday Night Lights, by Buzz Bissinger, about the obsession with Texas high school football, was written some 25 years ago now. Sadly, it was one of the last efforts to take a good look at something which seemed out of control. What did the followers do? Did they step back and ramp down? Hardly. They doubled down instead. The myth of manhood rides with football in the Texas oil country, as it does elsewhere.

Which returns us to 45, who needs to watch his sports. I wonder if he's ever asked himself why. In fact, I wonder whether he's ever asked himself why he does anything. It doesn't matter. He wants what he wants, and as president, he can stick his nose into anything he feels like.

He'll get his sports, but when sports are good and ready to re-deliver quality. That is going to be a long slog, like waiting out good health opportunities will be for the rest of us.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.


Mister Mark