I have a confession to make: I’m a junkie. A sports junkie, that is.
I live for the buzz I get from watching a sporting event.
A friend of mine pointed out to me that when I flip the channels on the TV to ESPN, my eyes glaze over and I apparently fall into some sort of SportsCenter-induced trance.
What can I say? I’m hooked-and this time of year there is plenty of juice to go around.
There’s just so much temptation. It comes in waves. From the Cinderella stories and buzzer beaters of March Madness, to the NHL and NBA playoffs, to the start of the baseball season, I may just lose it and run off to a fantasy camp to relive my high school glory days.
There is no better time of year to be addicted to sports, except maybe in the fall with the start of the non-stop action of college football season.
Add in a few surprises such as the Mighty Ducks’ improbable Stanley Cup run, Funny Cide’s bid for the Triple Crown and Annika taking on the boys on the links, and you and your buddies will find yourself quoting that old favorite beer commercial that said, “It don’t get any better than this.”
But a recent epiphany has brought me back to earth. If you haven’t noticed yet, the sporting world is witnessing a changing of the guard.
Over the past few years, the idols of my youth have begun to pass the torch over to the stars of the future.
These were the players we emulated as we played pond hockey, pick-up basketball games in the driveway and mud football in the back yard.
I still remember the time I (playing as Larry Bird) hit a game winning jump shot in my driveway over a not-so-imaginary Magic Johnson to win the NBA Championship. Or the time I jacked a grand slam over the center field power lines in my backyard off of Nolan Ryan (I was always Rod Carew) to win the World Series for my beloved Minnesota Twins.
Back to reality.
His Airness has now officially abdicated his throne in the NBA. The question everyone is asking is will LeBron James will be his heir. Can he fill those Nike shoes like Mike? He has the talent, but can he compete with the big boys?
Local basketball fans are still in shock over John Stockton’s departure from the Jazz. Nobody will ever fill that void.
Hockey fans have bid farewell to Gretzky, Lemieux and now Patrick Roy, hands down the best netminder in the history of the game.
Ripken, Rose and the other boys of summer have faded away into the shadows to make way for Ichiro and Jeter.
Tiger has taken the crown from Jack, and it’s only a matter of time before Brett Favre and Emmitt Smith disappear from the rosters on Sunday.
I know I’m not the only one getting a lump in my throat as I realize these stars will never again appear larger than life on the gridiron, court, ice and diamonds around the country.
Now I understand why my elders have so much respect for the players of the past. It’s because those were the heroes they grew up with, the heroes who inspired them to play-just as my idols have inspired me to become the best damn sports junkie I can be.