My Valentine's Day with Sports

It is currently 5 AM and I'm not embarrassed, shameful, or the least bit upset to say that I am sitting on my couch writing this piece. Today, of course, is Valentine's Day. A holiday famous for causing more girls to eat of out self-pity than all other holidays combined. It is also a day where males are constantly reminded - by their girlfriend, wife, mother, sister, neighbor, favorite sport's talk radio host, local Walgreen's clerk, you name it - they are under some intransigent obligation to go above and beyond in order to please the opposite sex. This year, experiencing Cupid's favorite day as a single young male for the first time in quite awhile, I was free of any and all obligations to anyone or anything but myself. So I did what any right-minded, young, single and blazingly handsome male would do - spent the entire day watching sports. Pulling off a truly successful sports laden lazy Sunday is not as easy as it sounds. One must be willing to sacrifice all outside distractions - there is nothing but you, your TV/laptop, and couch. Additional viewers are optional, and don't come highly recommended, as they are prone to causing more distraction than useful insight or commentary. Generally, waking up by myself on my couch isn't much of a prerequisite for the penultimate lazy Sunday. But today, there were extenuating circumstances. I awoke, somewhere in the vicinity of noon, thirteen blocks and a wrong left-hand turn beyond hungover, miles from my car, which was located at a friend's house. Through the act of an obscure Greek Goddess (Alectrona seems appropriate) I miraculously summoned the amount of energy and motivation, which I couldn't possibly describe, required to make it to my beloved couch. Once there, I would begin to realize that on this day my most faithful and reliable lover would provide all off the excitement, drama and emotion I could ever hope for on 'Plastic-Wrapped-Pink-Heart-Shaped-Box-Full-of-Mediocre-Chocolates-Day' or, if you happen to find yourself in Sarasota, PWPHSBFMCD.

Highlights from the day:

Louisville escapes with win at Syracuse - In what was a relatively small blip on an otherwise crowded sports radar, Louisville pulled off a major upset this afternoon, dealing Syracuse their second loss of the season. This is important because it may knock Syracuse down a notch in the media fawning department. During the game, I learned that Boeheim may be succumbing to the pressure of dealing with the expectations that come with coaching "What could be the best Syracuse team in the history of the school". Ridiculous hyperbole alert! Look, I concede that Wesley Johnson is very good, Onuaku and Jackson can bang with anyone down low, and Rautins is probably better than we think he is. But if you honestly think this 'Cuse team could run with Melo's '02-'03 squad, you are out of your mind. Don't forget Anthony had a supporting cast featuring Hakim Warrick and Gerry McNamera. That's all I really have to say on that.

Big Underdog wins America's Race In "Overtime" - NASCAR didn't take long to showcase the biggest amongst this year's package of annual rule changes/additions/amendments. Taking advantage of the sport's new "overtime" system, little known Jamie McMurray, of nearby Joplin, Missouri, was able to take the checkered flag at Daytona. In a race any sane person should realize belonged to Kevin Harvick, McMurray's #1 Chevrolet, thanks to a huge push from teammate Greg Biffle, was able to hold off a desperate charge mounted by an equally desperate Dale Jr. in the final lap. As a casual fan of the sport, it was great to see an exciting finish to NASCAR's premier event. As a casual fan of the sport, the pot-hole delays, as well as the endless procession of yellow flags brought upon by the perpetually increasing reckless nature of driving during late race "shoot-outs" killed some of the excitement. In the end, the race will hold up on its own because McMurray barely managing to secure victory, with Earnhardt Jr. closing rapidly, was captivating television. What I found more captivating, however, was the post-race. There is really nothing more enjoyable than watching someone as genuinely grateful and excited as Jamie was tonight winning something as prestigious as the Daytona 500. If he were ever to pick a day to achieve the biggest accomplishment of his career, PWPHSBFMCD would be a solid choice. It also makes it slightly more defensible that he cried in victory lane like a motherless baby. I mean, does anyone else get the feeling that Danica would have eaten this guy alive? Either way, it was nice of Darrell Waltrip to let us know that crying is indeed allowed in racing.

Canadians End Gold Medal Drought in Storybook Fashion - Yes, I'm referring to those (un?)fortunate enough to have been born and bred in the nation playing host to the 2010 Winter Olympics; not the NHL franchise that goes by the same name. Confusing, I know. In the second day of competition, our friendly northerly neighbors finally ended what can only be described as a shockingly pathetic gold medal drought on their home soil. It's almost as if this drought existed solely to be vanquished in storybook fashion. And chimerically vanquished it was. Our scrupulous hero comes in the form of Alexandre Bilodeau, an unassuming 22 year old from Montreal. It would be enough if you told me that he would never be caught with country music on his iPod. It would be more than enough if you also told me his favorite movies include Hangover, Old School, and Gladiator. Who doesn't love those movies? You'd be stretching my abilities to willingly suspend disbelief if you were to tell me his older brother Frederic, diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy, is his personal hero. That's all true. If you then told me this is the same person who incited a massive celebration across a gold-medal starved nation, I would have laughed and walked away. But Alas, Alexandre did indeed ski his way into Canadian lore on Cypress Mountain this evening. He also did an admirable job in laboring through an emotional interview with NBC without breaking into bouts of tears a la McMurray. I won't hesitate to say I very nearly wept a euphoric tear for the Bilodeaus. That was some emotional stuff. Alexandre's triumph is a welcome reminder of how beautiful sports can really be. It is also a much needed spiritual boost to a young olympiad already stricken with shocking grief and tragedy. Alexandre's story will not erase the death of Nodar Kumaritashvili, but it will remind many of us of the unique brand of magic and inspiration only the olympics can provide.

East Wins Amusing All-Star Contest - The NBA All-Star game is a sparkling example of how glorified exhibition games should be done. It is nothing more than a bombastic pick-up game. Everybody knows this. This is why it is fun. Of course, the sport lends itself to this style of play being fairly exciting to watch. Baseball can't pull it off. The NFL could, but only if they made the pro bowl a game of flag football. Anyways, the only real reason I cared enough to watch more than a few minutes of the All-Star game was LeBron. He simply makes everything more fun, and his charisma is contagious. You can see it everywhere. For instance, if you watched the introductions for the Eastern Conference starters, LeBron appeared last and, true to LeBron form, executed his little choreographed dance number with his teammates, and immediately established himself as their leader. As they left the stage, there's a reason they were following him. As far a LBJ's performance, in a word, meh. He didn't shoot well (could've been that the game took place in a monstrosity of a venue), didn't establish any rhythm (could've been that it was an ASG) and didn't win the MVP (which is clearly the only thing he cared about, other than having a good time). While Bron did seem to care about winning the MVP, he didn't care enough to exert the amount of effort D-Wade did. And congrats to Dwayne, he deserved the award tonight. In a game ultimately decided by one of the dumbest fouls I've ever seen (I'm looking at you, Deron), Wade put in the best performance. It was really a lot of fun to watch him and LeBron work off of each other, and enjoy the game for what it was; an overblown spectacle. Mostly, I'm just grateful I got to cap off my Valentine's evening watching my biggest man crush put his stamp on an historic NBA event without ever really exerting anything close to 100% of his energy. So I will continue to dream the impossible dream. The dream that one day, possibly soon, LeBron will deliver Cleveland a championship. Yeah, right. Right?