The sports writer motto: No cheering in life

Sunday I stopped by the Buffalo Wild Wings downtown when a man with a long dark beard sat next to me along with his girl friend who wore a Philadelphia Eagles knit hat.

The Chicago Bears — Eagles game was about to start along with a parade of profanity and  screams across the restaurant from the man with the long dark beard. He is an Eagles fan and he visits this B Dubs every Sunday to root on his team.

He apologized first to me for the Lions not being his first love. And then his girlfriend apologized for what was about to come.

“I am a Lions fan too,” he said. “The only time I don’t root for the Lions is when they play the Eagles. I am from Philadelphia originally and moved here a few years ago.”

It did not matter to me that he doesn’t always root for the Lions. Neither do I.

Then the girlfriend apologized.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But its about to get loud in here and he cusses a lot. He can’t help it.”

Four letter words flew freely as he paced from bar stool to high top tables, talking to patrons but mostly talking to himself and the Eagle players performing hundreds of miles away.

It was as if life depended on every play.

“Come in bud,” he screamed. “You have to make that fucking play.”

I’m sure you’ve been Eagles guy rooting on your favorite team. Maybe you are Red Wings guy. Tigers guy or heavens forbid Lions guy.

I missed out on that because of my chosen profession of being a sports writer.  I try to understand but I don’t get it when some folks allow a Lions loss to ruin their week.

There is no cheering in the press box. And often there is no cheering in real life. You can spot the sports writer in the stands because he or she watches games like a Broadway play. There is no emotion and sometimes you might get polite applause following a good play by either team.

We are rabid about sports, but not rabid by sports teams. Sports writers lose their hair naturally. They don’t pull it out during games like many fans.

I’m not sure if we are to be praised or pitied because of that.


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Published by terryfoster8

I am a 58 year old retired sports journalist, husband and father of two living outside of Detroit in search of his next big adventure in life.

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