When I was a wee broth of a lad, my parents never had to worry about waking me up on time for school.
During my formative years as a rabid sports fan, I was up by six most mornings, with one goal in mind. I had to get the newspaper.
I wasn’t much interested in the news of the day, or Dear Abby, the crosswords or the classifieds. I needed only one thing, the sports section. More specifically, the scoreboard page. That was my life’s blood back in the day.
You see, spoiled young folks, there was no internet. No ability to watch every game whenever you wanted. Heck, I’m so fossilized when I began my sports-viewing career, VCRs (remember those?) weren’t even a thing.
I went to bed at night most weeknights not knowing how my favourite teams had done (unless the Victoria Cougars broadcast I was secretly listening to on my prized transistor radio ‘leaked’ them). So I got up early to spend an hour or so scouring the scoreboard page.
“Canadiens 12 Penguins 0” would mean I’d be floating on air the rest of the day. I’d look at the summary and recreate each goal in my mind, each one some sort of rink-length dash or cannonading drive. “Rangers 5 Maple Leafs 1” would mean I had plenty of playground ammo to bash my Leaf-loving buddies.
Using your imagination was a special kind of magic that can’t be replicated, but the next best thing soon came along. I was given a small TV for my very own room. I had to keep it inches from my bed because it didn’t have a remote control. There were only a handful of channels. But it didn’t matter. I could watch some hockey without having to change the channel in the third period because Lawrence Welk was about to come on.
And best of all, Sports Page on CKVU was now a thing. An actual sports highlight show, close to home. What a breakthrough. Appointment television. So many talented broadcasters ran through there. TSN also became a fixture, so there were highlights available more and more. Of course, I hadn’t abandoned my first love, still scouring the scoreboard page with much vigour.
On Tuesdays, the team-by-team NHL scoring stats meant hours of enjoyment. And on the weekends, when they’d list all of the batting and pitching stats for Major League Baseball? Bliss.
That ‘era’ for us essentially peaked in the early-to-mid 1990s. My pals and I weren’t little kids anymore, but still young enough to delight in the late-night snippets from Van Earl Wright (“deeeep over the wall in left field”; “meat… at the dish”; “grievous” and more).
I thought of all this the other day when a buddy sent me some old Van Earl clips and we shared some chuckles and immediately began missing the old scoreboard pages.
Now, even if I have time, I find it hard to watch full games without interruption. I don’t have to pay attention. I always have my phone or my laptop at the ready. I know the up-to-the-minute scores of every contest. I can see every highlight seconds after it happens.
And yet, with all this information at hand, I don’t feel as connected as I once did. Or as knowledgeable. I used to know every player in every league and have the career stats of all my favourite players committed to memory. Now, I watch games, see a player I’ve never heard of, then quickly look him up and find out he’s a six-year veteran.
Maybe it’s simply having different priorities. More likely it’s the fact none of my teams have won anything of significance for decades. But despite all the advancements, the magic really isn’t there. And that’s a shame.
PQB News/Vancouver Island Free Daily editor Philip Wolf welcomes your questions, comments and local story ideas. He can be reached via email at philip.wolf@blackpress.ca; by phone at 250-905-0029 or on Twitter @philipwolf13.
