Desperately Seeking Steve

Well, it's finally come down to it. It has finally come to this. I have resorted to scouring the internet, searching for companionship. But not the kind you'd think. No, still happily married and comfortably attached. No, a new lady is the last thing I need in my life. However there is one indelible void that exists and persists to remind me of its aching need for satisfaction; I need a Sports Buddy. Let us call him, "Sports Buddy Steve." Though I suppose a "Jack," "Peter," "Khalid," or "Constantine," would do the trick. The name of this buddy is inconsequential. His hight, weight, stature, hair color (if present), and like or dislike of Brazilian barbeque are of simply no importance. He must only be my intellectual equal and well versed in a knowledge of sports. <photo_source>

That's right, SPORTS!! Despite a thorough interest in politics, law, international relations, film and film criticism, I crave, more than almost anything (apart from food and drink), a buddy with whom I can sustain hours upon hours of fruitless conversation and debate about sports. Be it Sunday, Tuesday, or Friday, the time for sports discourse is almost always; now. Because, let's face it, sports are really really important but also not important.

No, no one will live or die by sports on this day (save the hopeless gamblers.) No two-point conversion or three-run homerun will save the cancer-stricken patient. Sports will impact little more than emotions and pocketbooks. Yet, I yearn to discuss it. I yearn to debate point over point over point and win versus loss, start versus sit. I wake up to sports commentary and I spend a fair portion of my evening reading up on the day's sporting news. And it is surely not just the score. The business of sports is at least as interesting as the outcome of the games that we watch, no matter how formulaic or predictable, over and over and over again. The world and workings of sports is just really really fucking interesting.

So, where is he? Where is my sports buddy? Since my move from Boston back home to New York City (and let's not get into how that shift has altered my sports life for the better) I have left behind dear friends and fellow sports addicts and, despite the beautiful trappings of e-communication, it just isn't the same to get the jabber on. My sports buddy is out there somewhere in this bright burgh; this iconic metropolis, which I wouldn't trade for all the tea in Beantown. My Steve may be out there right now, flagging a cab on 63rd street, wondering how much value there really is to a pinch-runner on an American League team or whether it ever makes sense to punt in the opposing team's territory.

Yes, my Sports Buddy Steve is about my age, about my education, about as keen on the Yankees and Steelers or at least not in love with the Patriots, Eagles, Ravens Browns, Red Sox, and Astros as I am. He understands that lots of what ESPN says is right and lots of what ESPN says is utter dog crap. He gets it when I say I have hope but I also am also Baseball Nostradamus. He respects my superstitious nonsense and doesn't field calls during football games. He understands my distaste for the NBA, and basketball on the whole, but loves to argue with me about how, "college players are out there for the love of the game." He is a lot like me but not exactly because...well... while I might love myself and talk to myself, I almost always agree with myself. I'm sure Steve has SOME divergent opinions.

If you're out there, Steve, please find me. There is a comical Monday Night Football game tonight between the Browns and the Ravens that I could literally spend 48 minutes making fun of.