A SPORTING CHANCE: 12-Step Sports Fanatic

My roommate and I were discussing the movie Buffalo 66 when she caught me a little off-guard. “That was SO you,” she exclaimed, telling me how similar I was to Angelica Huston’s character. This is a character draped in blue and red nylon that has a Buffalo Bills game on the tube 24/7. This woman appears in a scene at her son’s grave screaming and flailing her arms at a portable television. Her son lives a life in which he is blamed and shunned for having been born during a crucial play.

“I’m not that bad, Jill,” I pleaded. Surely this character is only cinematic hyperbole of someone as engrossed in sports as I am.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said, “Maybe you times 20.”

Times 20. Wow. Surely this is a huge exaggeration … right? Can our sports obsessions be addictions? Is it healthy to be this entangled in sports?

During the NHL playoffs last season, a buddy of mine had his parents in from Baltimore. “Why are you rooting for the Pittsburgh Penguins?” they asked him. He replied, “If the Pens don’t win, I’ll be worried about the safety and health of my friend Brooke.”

Sad. But true.

I decided to do a little research. If people like me sometimes get physically ill or mentally depressed because a loss hurts so much, then surely there has to be a slew of some sort of experts discussing the issue. Naturally, I turned to the Internet.

After some help by the aforementioned roommate in keeping me from clicking my life away on espn.com, I searched away. The only thing I could find was quite alarming.

I am possessed by the devil.

There is this guy who has sermons and articles and the like scattered all over the Web. His name is Dr. Ken Matto, and he argues, “Satan has arranged the world of sports to keep minds in bondage to it.”

According to Matto, traits like yelling at the television, turning on a game during a meal and only reading the sports section of the paper (thank God right now if this isn’t the first page you are reading) are signs that “Satan [no relation to Sabres forward Miroslav] has built a stronghold on your life.”

Now, I have a handful of serious doubts about this whole Satan-is-behind-sports thing. Well, I am willing to entertain the notion that he may be involved in officiating from time to time, and I wouldn’t be surprised to discover he’s secretly Bobby Clarke’s right-hand man, but the only devil I ever worry about dons the number 30, rather than triple 6s, and hails from icy Montreal, rather than the fiery pits of hell.

So, we ridiculous sports fans are probably not Satan’s puppets, but do we have a problem?

The thing most people end up getting addicted to is alcohol, so all I’ve done is taken a little questionnaire that lets people know whether they are alcohol addicts and shuffled around the drinking references with sports. Are you in need of a 12-step program?

-Do you watch sports to keep your mind off your problems?

-Do you prefer to watch sports alone?

-Are your grades starting to slip because it’s tourney time?

-Did you ever try to stop or cut back on watching sports and fail?

-Do you ever have loss of memory due to watching sports?

-Do you lie about watching sports?

Ah … so accurate. We may all be addicts. But, what are the telltale signs of addiction? I’ve substituted for the drug-use references this time.

-Does watching sports result in the failure to fulfill major obligations at work or home?

-Do you continue to watch sports even though it causes social problems, such as fights with loved ones?

-Are large amounts of time spent trying to find sports to watch?

-Has the amount of time dedicated to social activities been reduced in order to watch more sports?

-Are more and more sports needed to achieve a desired effect?

-Has watching sports ever resulted in feelings of sickness?

Now that we all know we’re sports addicts, we’re posed with a question: What should we do about it?

The people at AA may say I’m in denial, but I say we shouldn’t do a thing. It’s fun to be a sports addict — getting our fix from SportsCenter marathons in the wee hours of the morning, jonesing for tickets, sleeping on the streets so we’ll catch opening day. I suppose we could give up certain side-effects, such as the mild depression that hits when our team chokes after being destined to take it all or excessive vomiting after Keith Primeau puts the puck in the net after 92:01 of OT in the seventh game of the conference semis (wait — that could just be me … and too much info).

But not experiencing the lows of being a sports fan would diminish the ecstasy of the highs. All you Pats fans are picking up what I’m putting down.

So, go ahead. Do it. Take March Madness literally.

I may be an addict. Hell, Satan may even be to blame for it. I don’t care — it’s not like my schoolwork is ever really affected.

Now, you must excuse me. I know I have a midterm paper due tomorrow, but I have to get packing for Pittsburgh. Time for the Big Dance.