I write a column as part of my responsibilities here at the News-Banner, and as I’ve noted, it’s occasionally humorous on purpose. Way too often, it’s humorous by accident.
Yet when I’m at my best, I am nowhere near the level of the best newspaper columnist that ever was, is, or will be — Dave Barry of the Miami Herald.
I first became a fan of Barry’s when he wrote a book on home improvement called “The Taming of the Screw.” In that book, he recommended (among other things) using a firearm to unclog a toilet. And as Barry often says, I am not making this up.
My brother-in-law is a carpenter by avocation. I bought him the book for Christmas one year.
You may or may not know that Barry’s writings were the basis of a TV show a few years ago, “Dave’s World,” which starred former “Night Court” judge Harry Anderson as the title character.
While Barry is not as high profile now as he has been in the past, he still churns out a year in review piece each year which is available online. It is well worth the effort to find his analysis of 2021 and read it. Be aware that you will need to take precautions. He is beyond funny. You will laugh until your sides hurt and your internal organs are at risk of falling out.
You’ve been warned.
I’m thinking of Dave Barry and his year-end review right now for this paragraph he put in about baseball, our purported national pastime:
“In sports, Major League Baseball’s collective bargaining agreement expires, raising the possibility of a work stoppage next season, not that anyone would notice, inasmuch as the average professional baseball game this season lasted as long as the gestation period of a yak, but with less action.”
Oh, boy. Ouch. Larry the Cable Guy punches up his standup routines with the droll comment “That’s funny right there,” and I have to agree. That’s funny.
It also underscores my relationship to baseball as 2021 is now 2022.
Baseball has always been my favorite game. Basketball is a close second; one of the worst things about my current health problems is that I can no longer play basketball three times a week at the City Gym. I quit showing up after my wife was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and time became an issue. Now I realize that peripheral neuropathy in my feet will almost certainly keep me off the court forever.
Yet baseball has been the love of my life — a love affair that soared into the stratosphere on Nov. 2, 2016, when the Chicago Cubs won the World Series after 108 years. What joy! What excitement! What glee!
And now … what a letdown.
Last season, the Cubs got rid of the core of that championship team — guys named Bryant, Rizzo, and Baez — at the trading deadline in July. I call it Blue Friday. The Cubs finished the season below .500 with players that would ordinarily have been playing at the Triple-A level. Last August and September, when I would have ordinarily been hanging on every pitch with “Gameday” up on my work computer, I just didn’t care. Nothing to see here, people.
Now, we have this goofy labor dispute as the players and owners can’t agree on a collective bargaining agreement. There are no games now, of course, but no one’s signing players for the upcoming season. The Cubs have to replace the players they traded away for a mess o’ pottage last year and with the CBA in limbo, that’s not happening anytime soon.
So the Cubs stink and Major League Baseball as a whole has ground to a halt. Since bad news like this always comes in threes, we can add this: My grandson is not playing travel baseball this summer. He figures basketball is his game, and he wants to concentrate on that.
And thus baseball has become a non-factor in my life. I am a boy of summer. What will I do without baseball?
My wife will have a brooding husband on her hands this year. She deserves your sympathy.
daves@news-banner.com
