...then I don't want to be right.

I've tried, but I just don't enjoy watching the news. I wish I were a good citizen, but I guess I'm not. I hate the sound of the 10 o'clock news introduction. I seldom read the front page of the paper, or the local section. And I despise the weather. All I want is sports.

Responsible adults are convinced that I should involve myself more with the world around me. They're convinced I should vote. They're convinced that the nightly news is an important program to watch. I just can't make myself do it.

To me, the news is just as much entertainment as sports. Who cares about a flood in Nebraska? Really, a 24-pound baby was just born in Russia? The stocks are down 3%? I don't care. Maybe one day I will. But right now, Tony Dungy's son being found dead, and how it will affect the best team in the NFL, is just more interesting to me. Kobe Bryant scored 30 points in one quarter? Where are the highlights? Is using steriods cheating? Let us debate.

...then I don't want to grow up.

When I was 8, all I cared about was sports. My parents got divorced that year. (Cry me a river, right?) And my passion was okay. My mom just laughed about it. "What can I say? He's a real sports nut." I was just like my father.

But now if I ask for a pack of baseball cards for Christmas, people tell me to grow up. "Don't you want a coffee-maker? Or a set of wrenches?" No! I want to see if I can get an Andruw Jones hologram card. I want some excitement. When I ask for a Harold Miner throwback jersey, people think I'm joking. "Dress your age." Now I can't wear jerseys? My favorite players wear 'em. My favorite rappers wear 'em. What's next, you gonna tell me I can't wear wristbands?

...then my wife should leave me.

My future mother-in-law wrote me a letter before I married her daughter. She gave me a bunch of advice, but the only thing I remember is that she told me not to put sports ahead of my family. What can I say? Mother-in-laws are never happy.

I try to include my family in my passion for sports. I've already chosen my son's favorite team for him. (His name is Cy and the 'C' on his Cubs hat looks like it was made for him). Our son-in-the-oven, Bo, will be a Red Sox fan. (Although when they lost Mr. Damon, I started to have doubts).

I encourage my wife to find attractive sports stars. It helps her watch the games. She used to have a thing for Bryon Russell, but then the Jazz got rid of him. And now that Brett Favre is retiring, I'm getting desperate. I try to have her watch games when Mark Mulder pitches (he's my man-crush too). But she thinks he has a weird nose.

I'll say this much, though. My family tries. There's nothing better than lying in bed when my alarm goes off and both my wife and I just sit and listen to sports talk together. Mike & Mike. The Herd. When I hear her laugh, I can't help but smile. Though I'm sure my mother-in-law is somewhere shaking her head.

Final Thought

Suicide is selfish.

p.s. Harold. Remember when you used to dribble the ball behind your back twice? I still try that, but I usually get the ball stolen.