It would appear to me that the dignity of things has changed.
I remember being a boy.
I remember sports on regular television.
Do you?
I remember the days before major sporting events were on pay-per-view. And I have to say it now, loud and clear, the price to see these major sporting events, are ranked up there with rape, pillage, and steal!
But this is the world we live in. Inflation is real and everything is about money.
Bills are real too. We need to pay and yes, there is always a new fad and there will always be a new invention or a new creation. Thus, I don’t see the cost of living going anywhere but up.
I remember the easier times. Or were they simply the better times?
I recall sitting in the den of my childhood home with The Old Man. I remember the television, which was big for those years.
I remember watching The Wide World of Sports and hearing the greatest catch phrase which was “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.”
They talked about “the human drama of athletic competition.”
I remember the feeling behind this.
Athletes were like royalty back then. They were like gods, which is not to say that athletes are not like royalty now. However, there was something different about this to me.
I remember The Old Man was watching a heavyweight title fight. I remember when Iron Mike Tyson walked up to the ring and how The Old Man watched him.
“You see that man,” The Old Man asked.
“That man is a killer!”
Then my Father pointed to the opponent who stood across the ring.
He said, “You see that man?”
Then he told me, “That man is scared of that man.”
The Old Man pointed at Tyson.
“That man is going to kill that man!”
I remember watching Tyson fight. I remember watching The Old Man regard him in such a way.
I had never seen anything like this before.
I suppose this is where my love for the sport comes from.
This is where my admiration for the warrior comes from.
Decades later, I was a grown man and heading east on 54th Street.
I saw a famous boxer by the name of Arturo Gatti.
I am, was, and I will always be a fan of Gatti.
I wanted to say hello but the fighter seemed to have something on his mind. He noticed that I recognized him. Then he rolled his eyes, as if to acknowledge, “Shit, now I have to talk to this asshole!”
Rather than push forward and tell him that it is an honor to see him, I chose to honor the man differently and I left him alone.
Arturo Gatti was found dead in Brazil, two weeks later. The cause of his death was swarmed by controversy. It was reported that Gatti killed himself. It was believed that Gatti’s wife had him killed and that the death was made to look like a suicide.
I don’t know much about these things.
In the end, dead is dead, and justice does not belong to me on this one.
I only know that I wished I pushed forward and told him, “Good afternoon, Mr. Gatti. It’s an honor to meet you.” and I would loved to have said, “Thank you for what you’ve done for the sport.”
Years later, I saw Mike Tyson walking through the lobby of a building on 34th Street.
His entourage was big, and each member seemed to have a “no-nonsense” look on their face.
Not again.
Nope . . .
I refused to make the same mistake twice.
I pushed forward this time, and while I suppose I appear to be a grown man, heavily tattooed and somewhat stocky, I assume that I might have worn the face of a child, happy to see is boyhood hero.
And I was . . .
With both hands up in a submissive approach, I said, “Champ! I’m sorry but I have to do this. I just have to.”
I reached out an extended my hand to shake his.
I have to say this was the warmest handshake that I have ever received in my life.
The only thing that bothered me about this is there are no phone lines and cell phone service in heaven.
I’d have loved to call The Old Man and tell him, “Hey, Pop! You’ll never guess who I just met.”
My Father would have loved you . . .
. . . You’d have loved him too.
I know it.
The Written Addiction 