My Father used to snap-up the
morning newspaper to check on the previous day’s scores, usually with less than
desirable results. His sports were
baseball and football. Period.
And there are too many different
sports in the world to try to address them here.
I still read a newspaper each
day; my Dad has since passed and likely reads one in Heaven. But this morning I noticed something I hadn’t
noticed before.
Various leagues of basketball,
baseball trades and injuries, bowling, boxing, figure skating, college and pro
football, golf, gymnastics, hockey, horse racing, lacrosse, martial arts, motor
sports, soccer, tennis, and wrestling, were the headings to both scoreboards
and news items, alike.
Still, there are two “sports” I
neglected to mention because I don’t consider them sports.
One is poker, the other is
fishing.
Before you throw your computer
mouse or smartphone through the wall, give me a chance to explain.
In my humble opinion, poker is no
more a sport than Olympic-class beer drinking.
While it may seem like a sport to the “athlete,” it is no more painful
to watch than a drying dishrag.
A half-dozen greasers wearing too
much jewelry, hoodies, and sunglasses, stoically sit around a green felt-top
table. A dealer passes out cards to
these narcissistic professional gamblers who try to out think their fellow
gamblers. (You’d have more fun trying to
outthink my cat.)
Money is wagered and hands are
folded with barely audible negative mumblings from the participants. This hot and heavy action is continued until
there are two suicides from shear boredom at the poker table.
At that point, the off-screen
announcers flash the cumulative winnings on the television to keep the viewers
who are still awake, apprised of the rankings.
This action continues until the
show is cancelled, or the newspaper writer dies of old age.
And then there is the sport of
fishing.
“Sport,” is a very generous word
to describe something anyone can do.
Keep in mind that you can fish while you’re drunk; I know, I’ve done it.
My Dad used to take me fishing
when I was seven-years old. One of his
workmates gave him a fishing pole for me.
We bought our own hooks and bait.
He would take me to the local reservoir to fish for sunfish and
bluegills.
I usually caught a few on each
outing – all of which we tossed back into the water. In fact, I likely caught the same ones
repeatedly who eventually realized they could get a free meal for pretending to
be snookered into biting a yummy drowning worm.
In any case, it was more fun for
me than the worm, and probably pretty relaxing for Dad, who could escape from
home duties for a few hours, as a chaperone.
Had I known one could make a good
living riding around in a boat with a rod and reel with a shirt and cap resembling
a billboard, my life would have taken a different path altogether. I would have certainly studied less in
school, and sat beside a local pond more.
The amazing part of all this is
that most of these fishing professionals are sponsored – given their gear and
boat and cool clothes – for simply fishing!
In any case, prize money in these
tournaments easily reaches hundred of thousands of dollars, for a few days on a
lake or river. But I digress.
Of course the newspaper outdoor
writers also include local fishing tips for amateurs to include the where,
when, and what of area fishing.
Suddenly, everyone knows the “secret” fishing spot, time to drown worms,
and the type of fish you can expect to catch.
But the bottom line is I am now
off to proudly announce to my sainted wife that I’ve always been a world-class
athlete. I’ve played poker and fished
with great enthusiasm.
I’m certain she’ll agree and hold
me in higher esteem – once she stops laughing.
