Proving my fallibility and perhaps gullibility yet again, I admit I gave the whole “beginning of the end of the world” talk some attention. By “some,” I mean I looked forward to the chance to leave the presence of arrogant athletes who seem to love making late spring the fertile period for their annoying antics.
Thanks to the Dallas Mavericks, my pick to win the NBA Finals, May 21 provoked only two thoughts of Kobe Bryant, my favorite target for barbs. The first centered around the Mavericks’ sweep of the hated Lakers, a four-game run that denied the Los Angeles bunch a chance at a “three-peat,” a word I loathe almost as much as “mayonnaise.” How happy I was upon realizing that Bryant, who still feels Lower Merion is Philadelphia, had to decide what to do with his day just like I had to decide what to do with mine.
The second thought concerned my being convinced I would end up spared on Judgment Day. Hey, I attend church, love my prayers, abstain from meat, give to charities, love to enrage liberals, try to make my wife happy, etc. What else could God desire? Anyway, 99.99% of my brain cells knew no rapture would occur, but if it had, I was sure Mr. Bryant would have to suffer the five months that precede the end of the world. Alas, he and I are here to endure whatever events the world will experience.
I would have enjoyed not having to hear about horse races anymore. The supposed “beginning of the end” coincided with the 136th running of The Preakness Stakes. Post time occurred at 6:18 p.m., and with the judgment set to begin at 6, I had hoped the horses would be spared their pointless jaunt. No massive earthquake meant no reprieve for the animals. I was not hoping for an earthquake, a tsunami, a flood or a marathon of COPS to punish us, but I had sought for common sense to win out. Unfortunately, it did not and Shackleford, a colt with a hell of a pedigree, beat out Kentucky Derby winner Animal Kingdom to win.
The victory means the Triple Crown drought will extend to 34 years. I find it interesting that the runner-up’s namecorresponds with humanity’s shameless pursuit of money through the exploitation of animals. I used to dig the circus and horse races, attending the former at least three times in my life. However, neither appeals to me anymore. If I were to own a horse, I would name him or her “He Won’t Race Me” just to ensure the mammal would be aware of my stance immediately. Our only race would be to determine who would finish his or her bowl of oats first.