Emotionally Detached…


Emotion On and Off

Sports is so much more fun when you are not emotionally invested.

Last week, I really enjoyed watching the NY Mets playoff games…no pressure.

They swept the Chicago Cubs and now await the start of the World Series tomorrow.

I like the Mets. I have personal connections, but it is not a life altering commitment as with the NY Yankees and NY Giants.

Last Monday, I experienced cardiac arrest and projectile vomiting while watching the the NY Giants play what was advertised as a football game.

Surprisingly, the Giants started out strong, scoring on the opening drive.

I was impressed, but aware that this was the Giants and anything could happen.

It did.

Photo: Jeff Zelevansky/Getty Images)
NY Giant QB, Eli ManningPhoto: Jeff Zelevansky/Getty Images)

Disaster struck and it was a long night. I barely slept and the Giants began their annual slide.

Eli Manning went from attentive, mistake-free quarterback to a gifted child playing a man’s game.

I was so disgusted that I placed a self-imposed ban all TV, radio and social media coverage of the Giants/Eagles game the entire week.

I turned my focus to the Mets after the Monday Night Football debacle. I did want the Mets to win, although I admire the Cubs productive season.

Theo Epstein AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh
Theo Epstein AP Photo/Nam Y. Huh

Personally, I wanted my daughter to marry Theo Epstein, the President of Baseball Operations for the Chicago Cubs who previously served as the Red Sox General Manager and orchestrated their two recent World Series victories.

Most mother’s steer their daughters towards doctors or lawyers.

I would die if Courtny married a sports team executive…Holy JDate, that would be my dream come true.

Yesterday, I watched the NY Giants take on the Dallas Cowboys.

They won…barely. The defense had 3 interceptions, one by Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie for a TD as well as a 100 yard kick off return by former Cowboy, Dwayne Harris…impressive, but those two huge plays did not make the game easier to watch or guarantee a Giant win.

A win is a win, but I had to borrow my 85 year-old neighbor’s defibrillator when the insanity thankfully ended.


I need to google sports lobotomies.

Forget the facelift.

I am in desperate need of brain surgery to rid myself of a festering sports malignancy.


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