Thursday, March 17, 2011
Everybody knows TV is no substitute for a good book, it rots brains, yadda yadda. And it's not a babysitter, no, of course not. It's so much more than that, really. It's an entertainer, a centerpiece, a window to the world. And, as it turns out, a temporary father/son hatchet-burier come tournament time. Since Bub has afforded me the oft-envied opportunity to watch every single game of the tournament in its entirety without little interruptions like "work," I, in turn, have graciously extended his usual 8-hour limit on daily television viewing for the duration of the tournament. It's win-win, really. I'm pretty sure this is what's commonly referred to as "quality father-son bonding time."
We filled out our brackets last night in a private pool. I've got Ohio State and Pitt in the finals. Through a combination of grunty groans and drooly fingers, Bub's riding Morehead State to the Final Four, and he's got Northern Colorado over Wofford in the final. Hmm, not looking too good there, Bub--at least according to the sports books. Unfortunate, seeing as how you stand to lose the vast majority of your piggy bank savings, not to mention a substantial amount of pride, big boy.
The tournament is kind of like a metaphor for our lives. In the early rounds, we will spend soooo much time together, though the action will be fairly predictable. As you get older, Bub, we'll spend less and less time together, until the tournament comes to end and you are off to the real world. But along the way, it will be an exciting ride, sprinkled generously with moments of acute joy, heartbreak, nail-biting and anticipation.
On an unrelated note, Bub is totally not getting the whole St. Patrick's Day thing. After several protocol explanations and numerous warnings to don a green article of clothing, I've been administering regular pinchings on the hour. But then in an ironic argument for his mental acumen, he just walked in wearing a white organic cotton Onesie. Oh, I do so applaud your cleverity, Bub. And I pinch you.