I have discovered that I have a semi-serious medical condition.
I am a fairly healthy post-menopausal woman and with the exception of the gawd awful night sweats, hot flashes and ever widening waist line, I think I’m in pretty good shape. But never in my wildest dreams did I expect to become afflicted with a rare and sports life-altering condition known as S.A.D.D. Sports attention deficit disorder.
Sadd but true.
These are the troubling symptoms I experience from March through September.
I lose the sports page and can’t figure out what I’ve done with it. I usually find it in the bird cage. I mark my calendar to watch a game on TV and then forget what it was I was planning to watch. Is Championship Bowling from Iowa on today? I start to watch a basketball game but get up in the middle of it and start washing the car.
I call my friend to ask her if she’s going to the Giants baseball game and forget why I called her. We decide to have lunch instead. I find it difficult to motivate myself to watch ESPN and keep clicking over to the NFL Network’s 2006 season replays. The NCAA basketball tournament has my SADD in over drive.
I think of myself as a worldly, well-rounded, person who loves watching sports for the entertainment value. So it is difficult for me to admit that I have found myself lying prone on the couch, mouth in slack jaw position with NCAA hoops flickering on the screen. I’m occasionally roused from my slumber in time to catch the last few seconds of play and frantically try to determine what happened and why. After all someone might just ask Femmefan a pertinent question about the final snore, oops, score, and I will lose all credibility if I don’t know who Greg Oden, Joakim Noah or Billy Donovan are.
Not only am I losing the battle with SADD during “March Madness,” but Holy Batman, now I have to try and stay awake and focused as Major League Baseball season starts. I don’t know how I’ll make it through until September with the hundreds of MLB games on the horizon. Okay roast me like a hot dog on a pit for my sacrilegious attitude but my gawd; I just can not get excited about a season that lasts longer than all of my sisters’ marriages put together.
