Day Two, One Right, Lots Left Out

                 First and foremost let me say thank you for reading this far. There has yet to be much motivation to subscribe to my opinion however I got four people to read....pretty sure you were all family. None the less I feel honored that you choose to spend eight minutes of your life with me each and every day. And for those current readers, it can only get better. Actually there is no statistical evidence that proves that, but it sounds intriguingly good.

                I suppose I should start at the beginning. And I also suppose that I should have started at the beginning, in the beginning but whats published is published. For every good story there has to be a credible basis for interest. Why should you read my article? And for that matter, why should you believe anything that I say? For every blogger that knows what he/she is talking about there is 1000 that are positive Michael Jackson is innocent (I know he can't defend himself anymore and yes, that does make me feel better about myself).
              For longer than I care to remember there has been a lingering thought of 'how can I get paid for watching Sports Center everyday?' in the front of my head. Practically every type of sporting event clogs my brain to the point of  my 7 hour phone battery dying due to statistical analysis each and every day (with the obvious exception of WNBA/MLS). It is beyond a love of sports, its a care, a respect and a feeling of place. But with every great answer, there is at least a couple questions. Why Neil? What caused this? Are you saying that you have a deeper connection with physical competition than most/every man?

              Among the earliest recollection of  'rooting for the home team' in my memory bank has to be football. I am among an elite few that will honestly admit that I grew up a Lions fan. I was not born in Michigan. Most of my extended family doesn' t have an actual alliance. I wasn't born bleeding and certain colors, but I do remember watching football with my dad (half asleep) and due to living in the general vicinity, that meant Lions v. whoever was beating them that week. My aunt is a Cowboys fan....Troy Aikman has that effect on women...cousins are Bills fans and I've ALWAYS had a hatred for the Giants. So, that meant that the Lions were MY team. The underdog,  perpetual runners-up that I could sink my teeth into and show everyone that through good and bad a fan sticks by their team. Every Sunday I knew 2 things were certain, the Lions were underdogs and me and my dad would be there watching. Thanksgiving was a double holiday. Food, family and football were all blessings in my household. Now a days rooting on my blue and silver has become easier, but as any true fan can attest, it has always been worth it.

              Although some of my fondest memories come from sleepy Sundays in front of double headers and Lions losses, baseball holds an entirely different meaning in my mind and heart. As much as the never ending comrade, love, competition and friendship that is the NFL descibes  my dads' (also my best friend) seamless relationship with me, the complexity, honesty and relentless ability to teach and learn describes the man that taught me about the MLB. My grandfather was a great man, no ifs ands or buts. However he was born and raised in one of the most tradition latent states for baseball, and never once cheered for the Yanks, Giants, Dodgers or Mets. He was a Braves fan, and every night of the cool upstate New York summers we would watch the Braves (on mute). He took the opportunity of silence to explain to me the finer points of baseball. And looking back, in my generation if you were going to learn baseball who better from than John Smoltz and Bobby Cox. Never once did I see his yell at an uncalled strike. Win or lose, he knew it was a long season and that losing your cool was a strike against your integrity.

            Some people stop at one sport, some people play a sport growing up and take a shining to it and follow every waking moment and can spit out mile of stats for days and days. I however grabbed every sport I saw, dug in to the history I missed (due to being unborn) and still wanted to know more. I never was much of a collector of cards/memorabilia, outside of a trade shows that me and my dad stood in line for hours at waiting for Gary Payton to sign my cards. But the reason that sports are so close to my heart is because the memories are ingrained with them. Fenway Park, Tiger Stadium, Wrigley Field and Camden Yard are only emblems in the hearts of millions due to the experience that they have shared there. Wins and losses, victories and defeats are all most see in competitions, and I feel fortunate to see more. For reasons embedded in my heart and soul I am a true fan.