Kickass, the doorstop dog, was left out of the action as the keeper did his annual check on the mental health of sports fans by joining Linda R, Scott H, and Harry P to watch the green baseball ballet at the big doomed play pen in Milwaukee. The keeper’s finding reaffirmed the verity that sports fans, with their otherwise normal—even in some cases exceptional intelligence, continue to clutter their minds with arcane trivia, using brain space that could otherwise be put to productive use, say in finding a cure for the common cold or developing a litter-box for dogs.
There is no way to explain sports fans, which the keeper discovered once a long time ago when he spent most of an autumn watching Chicago fans in all sports back when Michael Jordan was still playing and Mike Ditka was in charge at Soldier Field. The result was a cover story for the Trib’s Sunday magazine that earned some modest national attention and more than a few letters to the editor proclaiming the keeper a “spoil sport” among other more colorful things.
The keeper tolerates sports fans, as he tolerated editors: Once when he did a Trib column about watching Bill Veeck and his cronies enjoying themselves in the Wrigley Field bleachers, an editor removed a reference to “the sun reflecting off Veeck’s wooden leg,” because it pointed out a “handicap,” which put the keeper into a writer’s pout he remembers to this day.
Sports fans and editors are fine in their respective places, which, in the keeper’s estimation, have yet to be determined.