Posted by: Calmseas (Mike) | October 18, 2013

Cursed Sports

Detroit_tigers_alternate_logo_tigerI am not a big sports fan.  About the only time I ever watch sports is at the end of a season, and then only if my team of choice is making a run at a championship.

So if the Lions or Tigers or Bears—oh my!—or Red Wings are playing for all the marbles, I’ll sit back in my easy chair and watch a little of the game.  Inevitably, my team starts to lose as soon as I begin to watch, even if they were way out in front when I sat down.

Usually, I won’t watch a whole game.  Rather, I’ll flip back and forth between the game and something more interesting—say, a documentary on the migration of the arctic tern on PBS.  Whenever I change the channel back to the game, the opposing team immediately hits a home run, scores a touchdown, or lands a puck in the net.  When this happens, I get out of there as fast as I can and return to my bird watching.  Sometimes this works; other times, it is too late to lift the curse, and the opposing team goes on to trounce my team.

Late in the season, and late into a game—say the 7th or 8th inning of a baseball game—I might start watching, and hang in there to its bitter end.  This happened the other day with the Tigers.  In game 2 of a playoff match with the Boston Red Sox, Detroit was ahead 5-1 in the 7th.  That was when I picked up the game.  In the 8th, the Red Sox went on a rampage, scoring 4 runs.  I sat there and watched it all happen.  In the 9th, the Sox scored another run and walked away with a 6-5 win.  I brought the curse to the game the moment I started watching; I rained down the Black Death upon the Tigers.  It just had to be me, cursed wretch that I am.  Who or what else could it possibly be?

I don’t much like sports, and sports have a distinct distaste for me.  We get along best when I stay away from sports; I avoid them, and they, in turn, leave me alone.  Today the Tigers are down 3 games to 2—yes, I watched a little of the game again last night.  Now they must win 2 games in a row to advance to the World Series.  Whether that will happen, depends in large part on me.  Do I have the discipline to stay away?  Or will I succumb to the 11th hour enticement of America’s grand pastime?

Tomorrow night is game 6.  It’s all on the line for the Tigers.  Tiger fans will urge me to read a book, I’m sure.  They know as well as I do that I am just plain bad for sports.


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