This
is Wildcard Weekend. Rejoice, oh
football fans. Your sport and the only
way to watch it have taken over, Outer Limits style. Do not try to adjust your channel.
A
good thing for the NFL and its advertisers they can do so easily without
me. I don’t drink beer, I don’t want to
buy a new pickup. The ads are pitched to
demographics that do. I am merely a
voyeur. Let’s keep it on the down low.
As
a boy, I watched my 1964 White Sox win 98 games, only to fall one game short of
the Yankees and an American League pennant.
There was a finality to that year’s AL standings I’ve never been able to
overcome, even with the advent of the (now expanded) wildcard in baseball. The overlords do it to maintain fan interest;
they do it to sheer the sheep a little longer.
One flock of fans got shorn into last November, another through February
7. Rejoice.
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