Point Of View

Perhaps it is fitting on the occasion of my 50th college reunion to print the first half of an apologia pro vita sua that I was persuaded to get together for a book of reunion essays whose suggested titles were ". . . and Me."

Not surprisingly, I chose "Sports and Me," and herewith is the first half of it, the ringing conclusion to follow next week:

"I've been on the good news beat for a long while now, which is to say I write sports, and don't plan to give it up soon."

"The days when I worried about doing something responsible in life have long passed, though if I had gone that route Mary and I might now be able to afford those alumni voyages to 'The Cradle of Greek Civilization' or to 'The Islands of Eden' that now fill a large box in my corner office at The East Hampton (N.Y.) Star, where I am listed in the upper reaches of its masthead as 'Sports Editor.' "

"My voice mail message says that I'm either at a game, going to a game, or coming from one, and that is pretty much true, and if it isn't, 'I gotta go to a game' serves well as an exit line, rendered all the more credible by the camera bag hanging from my shoulder."

"The fact that very few here at the office know much about sports or much care can be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I have a pretty free hand when it comes to my Latinate copy; on the other, I have to deal with such opaque questions as 'Who is Bob Beamon?' 'Who is Greg LeMond?' 'What's a bleeder?' 'What's in the paint?' That kind of thing."

"I tell them Bob Beamon only long-jumped 29-something feet once in Mexico City, that Greg LeMond came back from the near-dead to win the Tour de France, that a bleeder is not a ball that strikes an infielder with hemophilia, and that in the paint is the painted area between the foul line and the basket."

"And no, a 'double pump' is not a shoe, 'driving the lane in traffic' has nothing to do with rush hour, and 'a backdoor pass' is not a scatological term. Further, a home run is a home run. It is not, as one of my fellow editors once rephrased it, 'a home run hit.' No wonder I never win any press association prizes."

"But I don't care. I've got a good woman, true blue and witty, and I still like to get up in the morning, though, of course, I don't bound out of bed as I used to. My athletic days are pretty much over, though I take comfort in the company of athletes, men and women, boys and girls, and like taking photos of them, deriving joy from the at times sublime headiness of sport, a headiness I've known running and playing, of being in the moment when all within the realm of consciousness seemed, however briefly, perfect."

Jack Graves