Sports Memories

While falling asleep the other night, I suddenly found myself visually recalling a sporting event from years ago. The specific image isn't important. What matters is that I got a "hit" from the memory, almost as if I were a spectator at a live event.

In the days before I began this journey of kicking my sports addiction, I probably would have happily watched the memory. But now, I shook my head and turned it off, just as I do when a sports report pops up on TV or radio.

But now I realize that staying sober isn't just about avoiding the temptations out there. I have discovered an addiction mindfield within. Just as certain media are offlimits, areas of my brain must now be avoided.

For example, when I hear the date "1954," I think of Willie Mays making the celebrated World Series catch that sank my Cleveland Indians. Dates like that can be dangerous triggers for people like me who want to live sports-free.

Indianapolis 500

Last weekend was the running of the Indianapolis 500...I guess.

It was a big deal for me when I was a kid. Back then it wasn't on TV then. We listened to it on the radio.

The broadcast featured a lot of engine sounds plus the narrators' descriptions ("The two lead cars are into Turn 1 racing side by side"). It must have been exciting. We kept the program on the entire race, which must have been about four hours.

I recall the sad day when Bill Vikovich was killed. I believe that he had won the previous two races. I could look it up on Wikipedia, but in this context the details of his racing career are less important than this fact: I loved Bill even though I never met him. I loved him because he was a winner and a risk taker. Then his car crashed. He was dead (whatever that meant to an 10-year-old kid). I was devastated.

And that's the point: I was more connected to someone I never met--someone who didn't know me or even know I existed--than I was about the fate of my neighbors. To me, that's one of the huge downsides of spectatorism: It takes us from our real lives and connects us with fantasies and images.

Who won this year's Indianpolis 500? Were records set? Was anyone hurt or killed? None of it matters to me. But I know this: I spent the four hours of the race (or however long it takes now) on things closer to home.

Spectator Sports and Death

Why have I come to reject spectatorism? Here's why:

Say that my team--the 49ers--needs to move the ball one inch to score the winning touchtown. There's time on the clock for just one more play. I'm feeling all the tension in the world. The players break the huddle and move into position.

I'm breathing hard, but what does any of this have to do with me? I'm not on the field; my ability to block or run or throw or catch won't be tested. I didn't decide on the play nor choose the players to carry out the strategy. I am sitting at home. My "activity" is limited to watching, plus eating and drinking.

All the real work, all the passion, all the joy belongs to the players on the field. Nothing I do, say, think will make any difference as to the outcome. My role is pure passivity.

How different that is from a thousand things I could be engaged in: learning a new tune on my saxophone, sharpening my juggling skills, drawing a cartoon, puzzling out an algebraic equation, figuring out how to stop the drip in my bathtub, planning a vacation, taking my wife's hand. A thousand things? Closer to an infinite number of thing.

To my way of thinking: passivity is death; activity is life. I choose life.

Spousal Warning

When I came into the living room early this morning, I noticed the morning newspaper which lay on a table. Roberta shouted, "Don't look at the front page!"

I averted my eyes and never did see the offending article. Had some major sports figure been arrested or killed? Were the San Francisco Forty-niners finally going to get a new stadium? Did the Golden State Warriors win the playoff series and advance to the next level?

Now it's late at night. I am slightly curious about the sports news that I didn't learn about. Would it compromise my journey to ask my wife what horror she had saved me from?

The answer to that question can't be found in the rule book, because there is no rule book for breaking a sporting addiction. A person simply must look deep inside.

I think I'll go to bed.

Breaking "News"

Starting many years ago at the top of each hour I'd flick on the radio to pick up the top news stories. The all-news station and the talk-radio station both go to the networks for a few minutes.

But this morning, right after a national report about a huge car bombing in Iraq, the local station began a story about the Golden State Warriors who are in the playoffs. A few games have been played, but I don't know the results. Apparently, though, fan fever is high in the Bay Area, and the news editor felt that covering the Warriors was as important as news about the President's position on the Iraq war or immigration or...

Angrily, I thrust my hand toward the radio's off button. With my 65th birthday approaching, I wasn't expecting much from my antique reflexes. But my hand flew like lightning. Amazingly, I silencing the radio before I could hear a single fact about the Warriors.

I've already learned to avoid sports reports which on the all-news station come at 15 minutes after and before the hour.
Now I wonder if I must cease listening to the top-of-the-hour news reports. Maybe it's OK to abandon radio altogether. I need to think about it.

Letter to the S.F. Chronicle

When I woke up this morning, I decided that I must be more proactive about the media. So I wrote the following letter to the editorial board of the San Francisco Chronicle, requesting their help in my struggle to stay sports free. I'll post their response as soon as I get it.

* * *

Dear Chronicle,

After a lifetime of compulsive sports watching, on April 8 I decided to end my addiction. This means not watching games live or on TV, not listening to broadcasts, and not reading about my favorite teams.

The journey of my recovery is documented at http://kickingmysportsaddiction.blogspot.com/

Unfortunately, you at our beloved Chronicle don't make it easy. Last week you printed a story about Don Nelson on page 1--above the fold! Today, you feature a basketball story in the flag.

Now, when I fetch the paper, I have to avert my eyes.

I have a simple request: Could you please refrain from including sports information in section 1? Otherwise, I'll be forced to ask my wife to pre-read the paper for me and, if necessary, clip out offending stories about the Warriors, Bonds, and other enticing topics that could drag me off the wagon.

Thanks.

Murray Suid
Point Reyes Station, California

No More Sports Spectating

I am a spectator sport addict. My addiction is not particularly extreme. Over the years, I've probably spent--wasted--10 hours a week on average watching, listening to, and/or reading about the exploits of pro athletes.

No more! Starting today, I will not watch professional sports live or on TV. I will not listen to broadcasts nor read about games and players online or in newspapers. I will not discuss sports with friends.

I will engage in sports actively--basketball, biking, whatever--but that is something totally different.

I should have quit spectating long ago. Actually, I tried to give it up in the 1990s, but my best friend bought season tickets to the S.F. Giants and the S.F. Forty-niners. I felt it was in poor taste to turn down his many invitations to join him at games (he had terrific seats). Now I realize that taste had nothing to do with it. I was hooked. If I didn't go to games with him, I watched them through the media. I thought about sports often and felt excited when the local teams did well, and felt bummed when they failed. I used sports as a conversation crutch, and I turned to sports for consolation when I was disappointed with my own life.

Going cold turkey will be tough. For example, this is the year that Barry Bonds will likely become the all-time home run champ. In days gone by, I'd devote a lot of time and attention to his pursuit of Hank Aaron's record. But if it weren't Barry, there'd be something else. I know it. Addicts always find a reason to go to their drug.

Of course, even if I'm strong, avoiding sports won't be easy, not in our culture. Often, sports news is teased on the front page of our newspaper. And two powerful radio stations are devoted to sports. When I visit the Yahoo! home page, there's also a link to sporting news. Today, I was greeted by a photo of a guy who beat Tiger. I quickly clicked out of there, but for that moment, I caught the whiff of it and was nearly drawn in.

Still, I think I can live without spectator sports. Hopefully, I'll eventually not even notice that March is a time for madness, or that the "boys of summer" are hard at work.

I'll give my reasons for breaking the addiction next time.