When I was a kid, I was a true sports fan. I read books from the 50’s and 60’s of improbable feats of heroism by ordinary athletes and teams. I religiously watched the Cubs, Bears and Blackhawks play on television and listened on radio. The thrill of victory and agony of defeat ran through my veins. I swung a baseball bat for hours alone perfecting my swing and pitched tennis balls endlessly against a garage or brick wall with visions of a major league career running through my head. I galloped through backyard football games with a ball tucked under my arm like the ghost of Gale Sayers, replaying in my mind each night the highlight reel of my performance. I even played makeup hockey games with any objects I could find for pucks and sticks.
My idealistic world of sports began unraveling when Wertz terminated the contract with WGN, relegating hockey to the snowy underworld of UHF TV. I was probably 9 or 10. I lost my taste for hockey and never regained it. A long, slow divorce with my love of sports had begun. Continue reading “A Long Slow Divorce”