The Sportswriter Is a Person You Love to Hate

Forget the Russians, nukes, AIDS, coke and the Boss, the real problem we have to take care of today is “sportswriters.” There are a lot of nukes and coke around, but how many get served with your morning coffee?

The dog learned long ago not to come near me when I was reading the sports pages. The cat, being the lovable animal it is, sometimes forgets, then wonders why it gets thrown out the door. The wife and kids are gone and only come around in the afternoons when they know I am over my “fix.”

Talk about something you love to hate. I mean, the Pope would have a problem giving that bunch an audience. A snake would feel insulted in their company. Buzzards, if there are any left, would go hungry first. Why do they pay athletes so much money? Because they have to associate with sportswriters.

I am already starting to get a little nervous, shaky, waiting for tomorrow’s fix. I’m telling myself, “Self, no more.” But we all have to get together on this. Maybe next month we can form a club.

DON LOVE

Palm Springs