'Matter of Laugh or Death,' a humor column
By Bill Dunn
Interesting observations on this thing we call life
(appearing each week in the Republican-American newspaper, Waterbury, CT)
FALL IS BEST TIME OF YEAR
Like many people, I consider Fall the best time of year. How can anyone not like Autumn? It’s a gorgeous season. For example, during the Fall, football is in full swing, both college and the NFL. And of course, the baseball playoffs take place in the Fall. What a great time of year.
Oh, and I understand it’s pretty nice outside, too. But who has time to look at leaves, or whatever, when there are awesome sporting events on TV all day long?
The other day during a lull in the action (it was a pitching change, I believe), I was trying to calculate just how many hours I’ve watched sports programming on TV during my lifetime. Well, I’ve been alive for 451,000 hours so far, so the actual number must be slightly less than that. But on the other hand, as the Dalai Lama once pondered, if you’re watching a football game on one TV and a baseball game on another TV at the same time, does that count as two hours of watching for every one hour of living? If so, my total hours would be well over half-a-million.
Someone once asked me what I would do if, by some miracle, I was given back all the hours I’ve spent watching sports on TV. That’s easy, I’d use those hours to watch more sports on TV.
Years ago, when my wife and I were first married, she would come into the living room and see that I had just settled down comfortably on the couch, remote control in one hand and a bag of Doritos in the other. She’d say, “Oh, is there a game on TV?” and I’d immediately offer the surefire three-word reply that made it clear I’d love to go visit antique stores or walk through the park, or whatever, but unfortunately those activities are simply impossible right now because: “It’s the PLAYOFFS!”
Although she didn’t understand exactly why, my wife knew “playoffs” was very important to me since I shouted the word in all capital letters.
After a few years my wife realized some sort of televised sports playoffs are being conducted during at least eight out of every twelve calendar months. During the other four months I had to say to her, “This game will determine who MAKES THE PLAYOFFS!” After all, as the Dalai Lama once pondered, if the playoffs are crucial, are the games that decide which teams participate any less crucial?
During the handful of days when neither of those two statements were appropriate, I would say to my wife, “This game will determine who will be in position to make a PLAYOFF RUN!” I think she finally gave up and concluded that I am a lost cause when I once used this excuse, er, I mean, reply, on Opening Day. I had forgotten a much better reply would’ve been to say, “But Honey, it’s OPENING DAY! Look, they have red-white-and-blue bunting! It’s a tradition! Fenway Park is almost like an antique store!”
In retrospect, I suppose it would’ve been better if I had not spent quite so many hours watching sports on TV. If even professional athletes can miss a game or two to witness the birth of a child, I guess I could’ve done that also. (I’m kidding! Don’t send nasty letters. I was present for the births of both of our daughters, as they had the good sense to be born during the pre-game shows.)
Maybe I’ll surprise my wife by offering to go out this weekend and look at the Fall foliage. Oh wait, not this weekend. It’s the PLAYOFFS!
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