The death of sports?

Fandom isn't a hobby; it's an addiction

Baseball's wounds will heal in time. Hockey already appears just peachy.
Of course, there will come another time of crisis in the NBA or NFL. "I'm never going back to a football game," you'll swear, bent over a frosty fish bowl of beer while watching some soccer refugee scab named Yago Sangria go 0-for-3 in field-goal attempts.

But now, with the strike-shortened hockey season not yet over, all anyone cares about is Mike Modano being out for the season. Or how 'bout the Stars' having to use those two rookie goalies back-to-back? And has there ever been another goalie named Hernandez?

A hundred years from now, some reporter will realize she has the run of the Hall after dark. That Griffey Jr. plaque will give her chills as she wonders what it might have been like to actually see him bat. His union card will be of little consequence. And down there at the Pete Rose plaque, all is forgiven, too.

Hit us again, boys. We're just sick enough to take it.

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