Guilt set in Sunday night around 11 p.m. CT, internal concerns that I had perhaps neglected my family and/or done something absentminded such as put my keys in the freezer. That’s how many good sporting events were on TV this weekend, and I dutifully watched most of them. You know, because I’m dedicated to our readers.
There’s no way I could choose just one to write about. Plus, the sum of the weekend unquestionably was better than the individual parts. My musings:
* The U.S. Men’s National Team continued World Cup qualifying by traveling to Jamaica. The contest was decided late, the U.S. coughing up the lead and then taking it back on an improbable goal by a little-known player.
I know this because I watched it on a Web feed of a channel called beIN Sport. I’m going to assume that the airing was pirated because no station in its right mind would run ads promoting “ugly girls.” No, I’m not making that up.
But the point is this: There are roughly 87 million channels in the English-speaking world, and a vast majority of them offer at least one interesting show. However, we can’t watch it unless our cable/internet/satellite provider offers that channel. It’s about time a scientist somewhere go to work on fixing this, finding a way to make anything on any channel available to anybody – if only on the web or through iTunes – for a fee. It’d be like pay-per-view except for whatever you want to watch, not only for what’s explicitly offered.
We, the people, are willing to pay for it. Just give us the opportunity.
* The French Open wrapped up in relatively satisfying fashion for front-runner fans with Serena Williams and Rafa Nadal winning the women’s and men’s titles, respectively.
Serena slugged her way through the field so easily that I received an email in my work account wondering if she might be on something. Her semifinal win over a pint-sized Italian was neither fair not particularly fun to watch.
Meanwhile, Nadal returned to glory with his first Slam victory after a seven-month layoff due to injury. The way the tears welled in his eyes during the Spanish national anthem, I wondered if there was a time that he thought his career might be over. Then again, maybe he just got flare smoke in his eyes during the second of two bizarre match interruptions by fans.
On a related note, I showed some pretty remarkable restraint during the Nadal match, refusing to Google “Nadal, one arm bigger than the other” or the like. I’ve heard rumors that’s the case, and it does look possible from certain angles. But I’ve decided not to seek out this information, to let mystery prevail – to be uniformed about a trivial matter the way the bulk of the world used to be.
* For all the regrettable things people post on Twitter, I’m more apt to kick myself for NOT posting something. Such was the case Sunday, when it occurred to me that there was no way the Miami Heat were going to lose Game 2 of the NBA Finals. There were at least three reasons: They’re a really good team; Spurs hater Joey Crawford was chosen to ref the game; the league couldn’t risk another sweep in a postseason full of them.
It crossed my mind to let the world know that it should bet everything it owns on the Heat to win. But I didn’t, afraid that some poor kid would take the advice and end up losing the shirt off his back on my accord.
My bad. The game at first was controlled by members of the supporting casts and then dominated by the Heat – in part because Manu Ginobili was dreadful. It was as if he forgot how to dribble. I’ve seen this happen to other players on lesser levels, and it’s astounding every time. How can a guy be so off his game as to be incapable of reproducing any of the skills that he’d practiced and mastered over so many years? In this case, Ginobili’s freeze-up coincided with a career performance by teammate Danny Green, who briefly belonged to the D-League team in Sioux Falls just last season.
Yep, I think I’ll keep watching.