BRONX, NY – As we all enter into summer like we’re serving out a prison sentence, I can’t help but chuckle at this site’s tagline: Where Sports Get Funny. Is there anything all that funny these days? I mean besides Trump drawing fewer fans to his Tulsa circle jerk than a Miami Marlins home game in September. Now THAT was funny. Otherwise, we got Major League Baseball finally forcing the 60-game season (Why were there ever negotiations???), NFL, NHL, and NBA health and safety uncertainty and, the noose in NASCAR driver Bubba Wallace’s garage that was OK (?), because it’s been there since 2019. Not a whole lotta yuk-yuks out there right now. Still, let’s give it the old college try… keeping in mind that most of us didn’t try all that hard in college. Even though I’m still pessimistic about any of it happening, I’ve been thinking about what some of these sports restarts are going to feel like.
Baseball. 60 games? It’s going to be a scorching summer fling that’s fun while it lasts, but doesn’t end well. You know the type. It starts super-awkward, things start hitting their stride, mutual hot-monkey lust kicks in, then you have that one night that doesn’t go so great and you start realizing you’re with someone who looks like Randy Johnson and has the personality of Curt Schilling. Let’s never speak of this again.
Hockey. It’s all about the playoffs… always has been, always will be. This year’s version will look like some sort of weird director’s-cut version of the 1979 classic The Warriors. Who are all these extra wannabe gangs, or teams in this case? What neighborhoods (arenas) are these? Where’s everyone else while these guys are laying each other to waste? Like the movie, don’t expect some sort of third-tier outfit like The Orphans (my Minnesota Wild, maybe?) to emerge victorious. But tune in, it will fun. Can you dig it? Caaaan Youuuu Dig it!!!!
Basketball. Just like any trip to Disney World, some guys have already said, “F**k this sh!t. I’m not going.” 
Those are the smart ones. The rest will fall into these three Magic Kingdom categories, 1) There against their will and ready to go home right away, 2) Putting on a good face, full-well knowing they’re going to get their asses handed to them, and 3) Drinking deep from the Mickey Mouse Kool Aid and hoping to come away with their own fairytale ending. Don’t believe any of it. Disney is where dreams and, in this case, teams go to die.
Football. Out of all of the sports trying to make it work, I really want football more than any of them. But people wanted the Hindenburg and Titanic to succeed too. Playing football this Fall feels like an epic disaster in the waiting. It has all the ingredients too. Greedy owners, a deadly virus, freakishly-large players who can’t afford to have their lungs compromised, and a nitwit President egging everyone on. It’s the football Towering Inferno no one asked for.
I hope things start changing for the better across all facets of our lives. In some instances the action of the people can bring about that change, but sometimes we just have to be patient.
Come back tomorrow for Buddy Diaz, who is patiently waiting for James Dolan to choke on a club sandwich.
