-A few weekends ago, I was locked in a do-or-die battle and thought all hope was lost. Dripping with sweat, my back to the wall, I nodded nervously to my teammate Devon. When he proceeded to sink our final ball into the cup of beer across the table, thus forcing overtime in our game of Beirut, the other barbeque attendees roared and I leaped into Devon’s arms, almost knocking us into the pool. Perhaps my elation was over the top, but as a thirtysomething guy and rabid sports fan, it felt warranted. Sure I root for my teams even when they’re not contenders, but all I really want in life is an excuse to go nuts and jump up and down like a maniac. Yes, athletics are about strategy and teamwork, but when you’re not the one competing, sports are also about wildly celebrating something you had no direct impact on. At the end of the day, we’re all championship pretenders.

-If you show up to a sporting event wearing the opposing team’s jersey, I dislike you but respect you. If you show up wearing a random third-party jersey, the jersey of the home team’s rival that’s not actually playing that day, or the jersey of the home city’s rival in a completely different sport, you might as well get the word “douche” stitched on the back.

-It’s amazing to me how so many NBA teams (including my Knicks) are purposely suffering multiple seasons of mediocrity just for the potential opportunity to sign LeBron James in 2010. In no other industry is this acceptable. No CEO ever says, “Our plan is to suck for the next three years just in case something awesome comes along.” Well, unless you’re General Motors.

-I have never once gleaned an interesting or unexpected insight from an interview with an athlete or coach. We get it – you played tough defense, you never gave up, it was a team effort, and you’d like to thank Jesus. I’d honestly rather watch a continuous loop of the burning Yule log than subject myself to live coverage of a post-game press conference.

-Remember before the Internet when SportsCenter would tease you by not actually revealing who won the game until the very end of a highlight? Now, they’re just like, fuck it, and announce “Dodgers won” during the opening credits.

-You know it’s been a slow week when “Top Ten Plays” includes a catch by the ball girl.

-Soccer has gotten a lot of buzz in the US lately because of our stellar performance in the Confederations Cup and the new David Beckham book. While I don’t give a shit about the MLS, I do love watching soccer at the World Cup and Olympic levels. I truly don’t understand people who think it’s boring. It’s nonstop action and over in ninety minutes! Baseball is my favorite sport, but have you ever sat through an entire game from start to finish? It might actually be more painful than the press conference that follows.

-Back in June, my dad and I went to our first game at the new Yankee Stadium. My favorite part is the ridiculously gourmet 6,000-square-foot HD jumbotron in centerfield. The only downside is that they never replay close calls that go against the home team, ostensibly so that the crowd doesn’t go ballistic. This always rankles me. If I’m gonna spend all this money to hike up to the Bronx and deal with douches in Patriots jerseys, the least you can do is let me berate the umpires. After over three hours but only seven innings, my dad and I took off. Not to worry, though; we got home just in time to catch SportsCenter – and were promptly told the Yankees won during the opening credits.

-As always, here are some random things I’ve been ruminating about lately…

-Nothing is more emasculating than standing idly by while my handyman changes a light bulb that I can’t reach.

-Usually when a chick tells me, “That’s not my name,” she doesn’t give me any more guesses.

-I hate when automated voice systems mistake my exasperated sighing as a selection.

-Just to hedge my bets, any time a friend introduces me to someone who doesn’t look familiar, I squint and say, “Oh, we’ve met before, right?”

-I hate when I email someone for input or advice, but they get back to me before I feel like dealing with the problem again.

-Sometimes when I drink heavily, I simply pass out. Other times, I also black out. One particularly sloppy night, I fell asleep for an hour, then woke up and had no recollection of where I had just been. I blacked out my nap. A new record!

-I love when I go to a web site that I haven’t been to in years, and am not even sure I ever actually registered for, but as soon as I start to type it fills in my username and password. “Well,” I squint, “I guess we have met before…”

-Too many non-Italian restaurants serve pizza these days. You’re a Thai place. Lose the fucking brick oven.

-Whenever I’m in a friend’s apartment and need to grab a cup, I wind up playing the “If I were him, where I would I keep the glasses?” game. I have never succeeded in fewer than four cabinets.

-And, finally, in 1996, I wrote my college application essay in the form of a flashback in which the various life lessons I had learned from playing soccer were recounted while I lay writhing on the ground, after getting hit in the balls during a varsity game. While the essay got me into Penn and I still get requests from teachers asking to share it with their students, my memories of high school soccer are bittersweet. My team played in a division that sent only one team to the playoffs each year and, alas, we never made the cut. To this day, whenever I run into my former teammates, we commiserate about never having been able to celebrate like madmen when we clinched a title. So yeah, I get a little competitive when it comes to drinking games. It’s all I’ve got. As Beirut went into overtime that day at the barbecue, I sensed that victory was at hand. Indeed, perhaps I would even achieve some modicum of vindication for the athletic heartbreaks I suffered in high school. Alas, I got hammered, blacked out, and have no idea who won. Too bad that’s one highlight that won’t be shown on SportsCenter. Fuck me!

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