…and now for something COMPLETELY different.
I’m not usually a fan of nonfiction. Matt bought me a book on Terry Francona for my birthday one year. I have to dust it off every so often…like, literally. With a dustcloth. We purchased a whole set of books on marriage when we were newlyweds. They’ve looked terrific sitting on our bookshelves for the past 20-plus years. My mom gave me a book on leadership to read before the fall womens’ bible studies started up…in 2013. The bookmark has been locked on page 59 for oh, I don’t know, perhaps the last 59 weeks? What it all boils down to is quite simple: I don’t read nonfiction. It’s like those vegetables your mom makes you eat when you’re a kid and then you can’t stand them when you’re an adult. I had my fill of nonfiction in college and grad school, thankyouverymuch. And now that I’m a bona fide grown up and don’t *have* to read nonfiction…then I won’t. So there.
But as I was waiting yet again for my bookworm children to emerge from the library shelves bearing library bags that weighed more than them, I saw it. Perched atop the “New Non-fiction” shelves, it’s plastic protective cover glistening in the fluorescent lighting. Beckoning me with its promise of meaningless brain candy mixed with a dash of humor. As if drawn by an unseen force, I hurried over, grabbed it off the shelf, and, before I even realized what I was doing, checked it out and slid it into my bag.
I’ve listened to Colin Cowherd’s show for several years. I like his direct, assertive style. Though I don’t always agree with his point of view, much of what he says makes a lot of sense. Sure, he’s arrogant and pigheaded and stubborn and doesn’t listen to anyone who disagrees with him, but that’s what makes him such a great radio host.
And now he’s got a book full of that stuff. Nearly 300 pages of rants, jabs, tirades, opinions, soliloquies, pontifications, ruminations, musings, thoughts, and editorials. Mostly about football and basketball and baseball, but a little bit about hockey and golf and NASCAR. Some of it is good. Some of it is meh. Some of it I don’t understand – like contract negotiations and betting lines in Vegas. Some of it I just don’t care about (see “hockey and golf and NASCAR”). But all of it is – in the grand scheme of things – distraction, escape from the big, serious issues. You know, the stuff that matters. This is just fluff. Fun stuff. The stuff that gives meaning to our weekends and provides fodder for the watercooler.
And that’s what makes this a great read. You heard me.