Like viruses, cancer, and mold, it started innocently enough.
On April 12, 2005, an unsuspecting Internet world was exposed to the following post on a brand-new blog called Out of Bounds:
Tiger Wins Masters, And Golf Needed It
Tell me, was golf really better off while Tiger Woods hibernated? In the late 1990s and early 2000s, when Tiger gobbled up majors like Pac-Man, folks squirmed and moaned that one man’s dominance was somehow damaging to the game. How much more fun it would be, they said, if others won once in awhile. So as Woods slumped in the last two-plus years, nobody, predictably, came close to matching his exploits. Nobody emerged, front and center. Nobody was, truthfully, the player to beat. Everyone was in the same boat, it seemed, without Tiger at the rudder. Well, you know what? Golf got a tad more boring, folks, in the meanwhile.
That was 999 posts ago.
Today, some 39 months later, post no. 1,000 is appearing in this space.
I first became aware of my date with destiny a few weeks ago, when my Blogger dashboard showed that OOB was in the high-900s in terms of posts. That’s cool, I thought. I should make note of it, kind of like when your car’s odometer reaches some sort of milestone number.
A penny for my thoughts? How about a thousand of ’em?
Well, here’s my little special self-tribute.
Actually, 1,000 posts means a lot of wrong predictions, ill-advised opinions, and self-serving rants. It means getting caught up in the moment and being not all that different from the boobs on their cell phones calling in to sports talk radio stations, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it. But it also means being self-referenced as a “bottom-feeding blogger”, so as to be an equal opportunity basher.
1,000 posts means a lot of chances to regurgitate my lifelong Detroit sports memories on you, culled from a steel trap memory that has as its roots Tom Dempsey’s 63-yard field goal to beat the Lions on November 8, 1970. So now it’s almost 38 years — Nick Lidstrom’s age — of recollection, and I’m not quite 45 yet. So I started young. But I can just about guarantee that if you read it here, as a look back in the day, then it probably happened. I don’t have such good recall when it comes to chores or where I placed my keys or wallet, but my sports memory is the antithesis of Teflon.
1,000 posts means that I’ve gotten a chance to meet other bloggers — and blog readers — and I must say, it’s a very cool, tight-knit community. I used to start naming names whenever I would reach some sort of milestone, despite advice I’ve received in the past that says that when you start doing that, someone invariably gets left out who shouldn’t. So no names — just the faith I have in each of you that if you’ve come to know me a little bit, or this blog, or if you consider yourself a regular visitor, or even semi-regular, then you know that you are included in my thanks. But if you must know names, just check out the links. It’s lazy of me, but those are the folks who keep the heart pumping when it comes to Detroit sports. Without them, all you’d be left with are those darn sports talk radio callers, and you already know my feeling about them. Actually, they’re not bad dudes — I just like to pick on them is all.
Oh, one name you should know, for sure: my wife, Sharon. Not to throw her under the bus, but she’s the one who suggested I pursue my writing career in earnest some five years ago after nearly 20 years in television production. But seriously, folks — she should be thanked. Not only for the nudge, but for her patience. I’ve held her up on more than one occasion because I’m banging away on the keyboard.
So here’s to another 1,000, I suppose. Sorry. It’s like trying to put toothpaste back into the tube. I’m afraid I can’t stop this monster that I’ve created. I could stop writing, but two things about that: 1) it’s my vocation, and 2) all that would be left for me would be to start calling sports talk radio stations. And how hypocritical that would be of me — don’t ya think?