By Alan Minsky | KPFK
As anyone who has met me knows, I'm a big sports fan.
Surely the coronavirus shutdown makes this the most dreadful season ever.
Nope. For me, it's pretty great.
How so? Two reasons:
1. I've always watched my sports through the lens of history. I even wrote four books on sports history back in the 90s. These past two months have been a golden age for classic highlights and historical sports documentaries on Youtube - and then there's the mega-hit ten-part ESPN doc about Michael Jordan and the Bulls, The Last Dance.
2. I'm a negative fan.
Or, at least, as much of one as you'll ever meet. Let me explain what I mean.
Most of the time I'm just like everyone else. I root for my favorite team or player. However, I also get super-passionate about rooting against certain teams or players.
Indeed, some of the time I'm just a down-right cynical bastard. I'm unapologetic about it too. The way I see it, there's no getting around the ugly side of competition - simply put, you want to beat your opponent. Let 'em deal with their wounds after the fact. Sure, I embrace all the bromides about the nobility of competition - but anyone who doesn't acknowledge that sports channel the destructive impulses inside the human soul probably never played competitive sports, and, to be frank, is an unreflective fool (see how much fun we're having). In fact, the great social service that sports provide is an avenue for the expression of these aggressions other than war or violence. For me, being a negative fan ("rooting ugly") puts me more in line with the spirit of the competitions that I'm watching - and is a harmless way to exorcise my inner demons
In particular, this nasty, low-down, cynical approach is informed by my sports history fetish. So, let's say a team is closing in on the number of championships won by my favorite team (e.g. the STL Cardinals), I will root passionately against the interlopers, regardless of their opponents. The same logic applies when an individual is chasing a personal record held by one of my all-time heroes.
Now, given the breadth of my knowledge of sports history, and just how many favorite teams and players I have from across the decades - I have someone or some team to root against almost constantly.
Perhaps the most celebrated instance of this in American sports is something I support 100% too. The annual celebration of the 1972 Miami Dolphin players when the last undefeated team loses each year, thus preserving the Dolphins as the only team ever to complete a perfect NFL season.
So, as you can imagine, I've never had it so well as I do in the spring of 2020. This season, no one is closing in on the records that I cherish; and no one is winning any titles. Check it out:
I appreciate the greatness of Lebron James, and I have nothing but respect for his frequent pitch-perfect political interventions - but you know when a sports fan starts out with the word appreciate, he isn't my main man. For me, that's Kareem, and always will be - ever since I read his magisterial autobiography Giant Steps just after college. Now, I admit, this one still seems inevitable - that Lebron will ultimately break Kareem's all-time scoring record - but thanks to the Deus Ex Machina of COVID-19, Mr. Abdul-Jabbar will hold the title a little longer.
It's brighter in baseball. With each passing day, the chance of Albert Pujols topping my beloved anti-hero Barry Bonds in the most sacred of all asterisked American records, MLB All-time Home Runs, is slipping from improbable to impossible. And Barry's towering (and tainted) single-season mark of 73 will go unchallenged another season. I get to re-live the glorious infamy all over again - complete with splash-downs in McCovey Cove!
Then there's the mega-epic race for the most men's grand slam Tennis titles between ageless super-heroes Roger Federer (20) and Rafael Nadal (19); and the massively less charismatic Novak Djokavic (17). As you might guess, I'm all-in for the guy in front, who also happens to be half-a-decade older than the other two. Roger has always been in the lead, but that was doomed to change at this year's French Open, which Nadal literally wins every year. Thanks to coronavirus, Nadal's annual coronation was.... WHAT?!?! (I scream, momentarily achieving the platonic form of petulance, last embodied by the young John McEnroe) Only delayed until September? Not Cancelled?
Oh well, at least it's a respite. Hopefully, the change will throw off Nadal's training - or, maybe, COVID will shut down September too. Fingers crossed.
The thrill of cancellation, the agony of re-scheduling.
Not to end on a downer, let's celebrate the greatest sporting gift the pandemic has bestowed on me. My beloved St Louis Blues, who had to wait 51 whole seasons before their first title, will be the reigning champions one more year! So, I'll pop that champagne and drink once more from the Stanley Cup!
Does it match that magic moment from last spring? Hell no; but it still feels good - and it's glorious to watch these highlights.
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