No thanks for the memories

Patrick Hruby’s most unmemorable sports moment of 2012 involves the Washington Wizards. He says they “typified ordinary sports failure,” but I suspect they may be on permanent steroids:

“Sports is striking out. Dribbling the ball off your foot. Missing a block and watching the quarterback get drilled. Sports is having your throbbing ankles taped, sweating through practice while somebody screams at you, hitting the same looping forehand 1,000 times a day for 10 years while other kids eat ice cream. Sports is sitting indefinitely in post-game stadium traffic, getting your call dropped by the talk radio host, wondering why your favorite team’s general manager wasn’t smart enough to trade for James Harden. Sports is warming the bench, getting cut, putting your uniform in a closet and getting a job selling insurance. Sports is about winning, sure, and one shining moment that culminates in lending your name to one of those ghostwritten Successories self-help manuals that come with lifting a trophy. Far more often, though, sports is about losing, falling short of your hopes and dreams and goals, ending a losing season with a loss. Sports is about clear hearts and full eyes and doing your best, and then muddling on in spite of it. Or, more accurately, because of it.”

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