Some years back, somebody published a book examining our tendency to view ourselves as if characters in a film. I didn’t read the book, so I don’t recall whether its thesis was merely an observation or something larger, a sociological tsk-tsking of a helpless descent from our actual lives to an artificial media landscape.
Well, I had one of those Oh, Jesus, this feels like a movie moments Sunday.
I told him that a player on a streak has to respect the streak. … You know why? Because they don’t–they don’t happen very often. … If you believe you’re playing well because you’re getting laid, or because you’re not getting laid, or because you wear women’s underwear, then you are! And you should know that!
–Crash Davis, Bull Durham
Nobody said parenting was a picnic, but I wasn’t prepared for this.
Sunday afternoon: Game 6 of the Flyers-Penguins series is underway, and I’m strolling through a supermarket, not parked in front of a flat-screen, and that was just fine. I hadn’t watched as much as a face-off through the first three games, all wins for the Orange and Black. I’d tuned in to Games 4 and 5–losses. Clearly my viewership was the deciding factor.
Special Sauce is with me, though, and we keep up with Game 6 thanks to my iPhone. It isn’t long before she asks, “Dad, can we watch when we get home?”