The reason that I can state, flatly and unequivocially, that "sports" are dead, is exhibited in my home tonight.  That may seem a premature statement, given the gross amount of money that people of all nations, especially the United States, spend on sports "entertainment", but the end is absolutely in sight.

Exhibit number one would be me.  Tonight is the Orange Bowl game for the mythical National Championship.  Only this morning did I find out who was playing in the game.  Even then I was only interested because both teams were 12-0 and both have Heisman Trophy winning quarterbacks.  And even now I don't really care who wins or if I see it or not.  Since I'm originally from Missouri I'd kind of like to see Oklahoma kick USC's ritzy ass, but I won't lose any sleep over it one way or the other.

I now live 50 minutes from Lincoln Field, the new home of the Philadelphia Eagles.  A couple of weeks ago I received four tickets to the Eagles vs. Green Bay, the hottest ticket of the NFL week, on the fifty yard line about twenty rows up.  I gave them away. 

I had a rare run of luck with professional sports tickets. A few days later I received tickets to the 76'ers vs. Knicks, again great seats.  I was actually a little irritated that I had to fool with them.  I did, however, take my daughter to that game and we had a great time, but because of the companionship and not because the Sixers or Knicks were any great shakes.

My good friend Warren Whitworth, of Poplar Bluff, Missouri e-mailed me an article about the St. Louis Cardinals this year, which I did enjoy.  Warren undoubtedly remembered the old me, who was as die-hard a St. Louis Cardinals fan as ever existed.

The new me, however, has a passing interest at best.  When the Cardinals got humiliated by the Bosox, I really didn't care.  Actually, that just validated my lost interest:  In the days when sports were real, a true St. Louis Cardinals baseball team would never let that happen.  The Cardinals I loved more than anything else had Bob Gibson on the mound, and he would pin your fucking ears back in a heartbeat.  His 1967 E.R.A. was 1.12.  That's right, 1.12.  They lowered the pitcher's mound because of Gibson- he was too good, no one could touch him. And he was a mean son of a bitch who didn't like you and he also pinch hit regularly and well. 

When Lou Brock stepped on deck the crowd would begin to buzz.  When he approached the plate the fans would roar with anticipation.  Every pitch was an adventure, as Brock worked the count toward ball four or slapped a single into the outfield. When he got on first base the place went nuts.  No one wanted to see Brock on second or third, we all wanted him on first.  The pitcher was immediately in trouble, no matter who he was.  In his prime years Brock would sometimes lead off squarely between first and second and dare the pitcher to throw to either base.  If the pitcher tried to pick him off at first he'd just take second.  A lot of the time he would steal second base on the first pitch and third base on the second.  At least once he stole second, third and home.

I also lived for professional football, pro basketball and all college sports.  I would never have dreamt of missing the New Year's Day Bowl Games.  If I wasn't scheduled off work I just called in sick.  There was nothing in life more important or more fun than sports.

What happened to exhibit number one and sports? Let me count the ways: 1- Free agency.  I remember when the Cardinal's Old Warhorse, Enos Slaughter, got traded to the Yankees.  The St. Louis Globe Democrat ran a front page, full page picture of Slaughter with tears running down his face, and the caption was Slaughter's statement:  "What a Hell of a Way to Treat a Guy."  And he got traded to the Yankees!  2- Salaries-  these guys make how much? 3- Expansion. 4- Thugs. 5- New stadiums. 6- Ticket prices to pay for the thug's salaries and the new stadiums. 7- Watered down talent- they would make Bob Gibson pitch from a hole now. 8-Steriods. 9- Attitudes. 10- And so on. 

Exhibit number two predicting the death of sports would be my children.  I have two boys and a girl, and they know sports and played sports throughout high school and they could care less.  Oh, they'll watch a game once in a while, or go to a game occasionally, but it's certainly not an obsession.  There are a thousand other things they'd rather do, actually.

They're pretty typical, which does not bode well for the "sports industry".

But I wasn't typical.  And as I sit here writing this entry in my Electric Revolution blog with the Orange Bowl in the background (I think it's tied 7-7) it's pretty clear that sports has lost me.  And if they can lose me, they can lose anybody.

My next blog will be about my intrepid visit to Ken Kesey's house with another friend, Mike Carson, some years ago.  Bot this blog to be notified when new entries are posted.