Distance is making the heart grow fond for certain things, but mostly for our beloved sports teams. Watching a baseball/football/hockey game is exciting, but there is nothing like the exquisite tension of reaching for your Blackberry at 6:30 in the morning to see the headlines of how your team fared.
And the success of the teams definitely amplifies the interest: The Detroit Tigers are in the midst of their best season since 1984, the Lions are having a run they have not had in MY LIFETIME, and the Michigan Wolverines seem to be back where we expect them to be in the Top 25 (and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my son’s happiness about the Redskins 3-1 start and the Nationals 3rd place finish).
When you don’t live in the place where you grew up, certain aspects of your hometown teams bring back the warmth of childhood: the color of Lion blue, the wheels of the Red Wings, the D in the Tigers cap. And whether it’s a memory of Olympia or Cobo Arena, or the newer instances shared with the next generation at the Palace or the new ballpark, the one with the Ferris wheel, there is real joy. Not just sentimental, but true shared joy in their success which somehow becomes our success.
While my son’s biggest complaint about London is the time difference (a problem I cannot fix, but my wife is looking into) there are those moments each week, when the games start too late and he bursts into our room first thing with the following: “Can you believe they won” or “Don’t tell me what happened, turn on SportsCenter” or the rarely uttered “Tell me what happened Dad?”
And while we are not at Fedex Field or Comerica Park, or even staying up late to watch Monday Night Football, we are linked to their success with our own moments, our own highlights, our own connection that is no less memorable.
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