I’m someone with considerable experience listening to sports talk radio over the course of the past 35 years. The week leading up to the Super Bowl has always been something I’ve kept on my personal radar. This year, the strangest year ever, things about sports (even the Super Bowl) seem to have been pushed to the fringes, shoved there by all-things-COVID.
Perhaps it has something to do with not really running with a tribe anymore. Or, not working in a physical space with other humans. Every workplace I’ve ever been part of would have had someone running a Super Bowl pool, soliciting predictions with a pot of cash going to the winner. Maybe New Englanders were depressed because their favorite son had found success somewhere else, out from the constraints of the Krafts and the Hoodie Man.
But this year, nothing: nada! Working from home, the daily Skype was filled with the usual inane banter about dogs and things people didn’t know about how to do their jobs. Nothing about Tom Brady, or thoughts about how New England’s favorite son might fare in the land of the sun. No openings to insert, “I just wrote a song about Tom Brady–check it out.” Actually, no one at work gives two shits about anything related to my life–I learned that all-too-well the week of the fourth anniversary of Mark’s death. Not one note or inquiry like, “how are you doing” from a team leader or manager. Oh well. Continue reading