Sports Questions That Keep Me Awake at Night

I can't sleep.

Night after night I toss and turn, able to get only brief moments of shallow sleep between the nagging intrusions of unresolved questions.

"Relax," you might say, "these questions are not earth-shaking."

Yet to my sporting and competitive mind, the weight of their tension nudges upward toward the "life-or-death" level.

Here's an example: have any of you duffers out there noticed a level of snobbery which seems to increase with the level of play? It's gotten to the point where, at the professional level, there even seems to be an elite vocabulary. Why is it "golf" to you and me, but to most top pros it's "gawf"?  Here's my own elite terminology: Somnius Interruptus.

It's maddening.

Many a dark night has been invaded by this quandary: baseball has its "triple play", basketball the "triple double," horse racing's "triple crown," and my golf game, with its "triple bogey." Why the heck does hockey insist on calling its masterpiece the "hat trick"? No wonder the hockey jock feels like an outcast.

All the recent talk of performance-enhancing drugs has me staring at the ceiling. Why did the home run productions of Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and Raphael Palmiero drop like a rock after "allegations" of steroid use? Please tell me their egos aren't that fragile...

Close eyes...deep breath...relax...sleep...please!?

If it weren't for today's politically correct crowd, I would lose no sleep over this one. But now, at 3:00am, I'm wondering: were women offended by the track and field event formerly known as the "broad jump"? I should ask for feedback from some of the, shall I say, more seasoned ladies.

That thought naturally springboards into yet another z-z-z-z-buster: should the women's sports program at Oregon State University find a less controversial nickname?  I'm sorry. It must be the lack of sleep. These thoughts just pop into my head at the strangest moments.

OK, girls—equal time. I actually woke up in a cold sweat pondering this question in a semi-dream state: when a star basketball player retires, he is said to "hang up his jock." Why then, is it his jersey that is hoisted to the rafters?  Oh the mental image this perplexity conjures up. Not exactly sleep inducing.

Lord, help me get to sleep!

Even the F1 crowd has contributed to the provocative thoughts which keep my mind racing: if race car and radar are spelled the same forward or backward, doesn't it follow that the ensuing result is spelled t-i-k-i-t?

Aarrgghh!

I've had enough of this! I'm getting up. Maybe writing my thoughts will bring resolution. Then I'm having another bowl of Cappuccino Swirl with coffee sprinkles on top.

God, I wish I could sleep!

formerly published on www.blazersedge.com