When I was a wee broth of a lad, my parents never had to worry about waking me up on time for school.
During my formative years as a rabid sports fan, I was up by six most mornings, with one goal in mind. I had to get the newspaper.
I wasn鈥檛 much interested in the news of the day, or Dear Abby, the crosswords or the classifieds. I needed only one thing, the sports section. More specifically, the scoreboard page. That was my life鈥檚 blood back in the day.
You see, spoiled young folks, there was no internet. No ability to watch every game whenever you wanted. Heck, I鈥檓 so fossilized when I began my sports-viewing career, VCRs (remember those?) weren鈥檛 even a thing.
I went to bed at night most weeknights not knowing how my favourite teams had done (unless the Victoria Cougars broadcast I was secretly listening to on my prized transistor radio 鈥榣eaked鈥� them). So I got up early to spend an hour or so scouring the scoreboard page.
鈥淐anadiens 12 Penguins 0鈥� would mean I鈥檇 be floating on air the rest of the day. I鈥檇 look at the summary and recreate each goal in my mind, each one some sort of rink-length dash or cannonading drive. 鈥淩angers 5 Maple Leafs 1鈥� would mean I had plenty of playground ammo to bash my Leaf-loving buddies.
Using your imagination was a special kind of magic that can鈥檛 be replicated, but the next best thing soon came along. I was given a small TV for my very own room. I had to keep it inches from my bed because it didn鈥檛 have a remote control. There were only a handful of channels. But it didn鈥檛 matter. I could watch some hockey without having to change the channel in the third period because Lawrence Welk was about to come on.
And best of all, was now a thing. An actual sports highlight show, close to home. What a breakthrough. Appointment television. So many talented broadcasters ran through there. TSN also became a fixture, so there were highlights available more and more. Of course, I hadn鈥檛 abandoned my first love, still scouring the scoreboard page with much vigour.
On Tuesdays, the team-by-team NHL scoring stats meant hours of enjoyment. And on the weekends, when they鈥檇 list all of the batting and pitching stats for Major League Baseball? Bliss.
That 鈥榚ra鈥� for us essentially peaked in the early-to-mid 1990s. My pals and I weren鈥檛 little kids anymore, but still young enough to delight in the late-night snippets from Van Earl Wright (鈥渄eeeep over the wall in left field鈥�; 鈥渕eat鈥� at the dish鈥�; 鈥済rievous鈥� and more).
I thought of all this the other day when a buddy sent me some old Van Earl clips and we shared some chuckles and immediately began missing the old scoreboard pages.
Now, even if I have time, I find it hard to watch full games without interruption. I don鈥檛 have to pay attention. I always have my phone or my laptop at the ready. I know the up-to-the-minute scores of every contest. I can see every highlight seconds after it happens.
And yet, with all this information at hand, I don鈥檛 feel as connected as I once did. Or as knowledgeable. I used to know every player in every league and have the career stats of all my favourite players committed to memory. Now, I watch games, see a player I鈥檝e never heard of, then quickly look him up and find out he鈥檚 a six-year veteran.
Maybe it鈥檚 simply having different priorities. More likely it鈥檚 the fact none of my teams have won anything of significance for decades. But despite all the advancements, the magic really isn鈥檛 there. And that鈥檚 a shame.
PQB News/Vancouver Island Free Daily editor Philip Wolf welcomes your questions, comments and local story ideas. He can be reached via email at ; by phone at 250-905-0029 or on Twitter .