Why I hate Opening Day
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Opening Day sucks. It always has, and it always will.

Baseball doesn’t suck, though, in case you wondering where this is going. For 181 days a year, not including playoffs, baseball is perfectly fine. But the 182nd day, which is also the first day, sucks. A lot.

And here’s why. Opening Day is the day when rich dilettantes, politico-prostitutes, glad-handing weasels and the members of the Just-Here-To-Be-Seen-And-Never-Return Brigade turn up, get the best seats, and act like they’re the reason everyone else turned up. It’s nauseating, and you know it.

Now Day Two, on the other hand, is when the people you want to hang out with turn up. They are there for the game, or the beer, or the fried snacks, or a combination of all three. They’re the ones who want to be there, as opposed to the Opening Day droids who are there so that others can see and envy them. Day Two -- that’s the Opening Day that matters.

You are, of course, forgiven if you go to both. But if you do Game One and not Game Two, you are just like the game you see. As in, you suck.

And have a nice day.


The great debate between good taste and information met another fork in the road Sunday when Kevin Ware’s tibia and fibula snapped during Louisville’s win over Duke. Of course, it took very little time for the offending bones to take second chair to an argument about whether images of the break are proper viewing fare for the general public.

CBS passed on it, while a number of Internet outlets made a gif of the break, and it is gruesome every time. That said, the notion that America cannot handle a broken bone is an odd one, since America produces, glorifies and endures degrading viewing choices every day. So the correct answer isn’t sensitivity, but “use your own judgment.” And since technology allows even the most amateur of audio-visual club members to watch anything ad nauseam, that answer is already implied.

But you can avoid it as many times as you want, too. That’s the beauty of having a remote, eyes that can move, and a neck. You can look away whenever you want, and still maintain the humanity required to feel bad for Ware. It was a hideous injury, and may he get well quickly and completely.


By the way, why didn’t anyone want to have this debate when Sidney Crosby took a puck in the face Saturday and ended up with a broken jaw? That’s what I thought.


The NHL trade deadline is Wednesday, which means that the NHL Network will be bogarting TSN’s 10-hour trade deadline show. And while I enjoy many of the TSN boys and girls for their fervor and knowledge, I’d love to see no trades happen just for the schadenfreude-enriched vision of a mass TV meltdown. Bob McKenzie hitting his head with a hammer, James Duthie weeping, and Pierre LeBrun and Gord Miller enveloped in a cataleptic inertia born of panic.

I also want them to come out of it at 3:01 p.m. and have all the beers Canada can make. I just would like to see the logical extreme of a trade deadline in which no trades are made, because someday that’s going to happen and social scientists everywhere want to know the effect on TV presenters when faced with 10 hours of nothing but blank stares.

Also, I’m not a good person.


And finally, with an eye toward the viewing event of the early spring, let me offer this: If you compare any sporting event to Game of Thrones, may summer in prison be your reward.