Toronto, May 3, 2026
My sporting life
My friend Bill was once a prominent corporate lawyer and business executive. I know him to be an engaged and astute observer of geopolitics. He’s in his late eighties now. We had lunch recently and I asked him what he thought about the state of the world. “I’ve given up following the news,” Bill said. “It’s chaotic and depressing. To hell with it. I’m not going to dwell on bad stuff out of my control and ruin the time I have left.”
I knew exactly what he meant. When you’re old, it’s hard to maintain your equilibrium in the face of bedlam. You no longer have the necessary emotional and intellectual resilience. You don’t have time to bounce back from confusion and disgust. And, anyway, what does any of it mean for someone of an advanced age?
“So,” I asked Bill, “Now you’ve tuned out of current events, how do you spend your time?”
“Professional sports,” he said. “I watch hours of it every day on television—baseball, basketball, hockey, soccer, tennis. You know what I love about sports? It’s well-defined. Games have a beginning and end. There’s a winner and a loser. And sports, unlike the rest of the world, are rules-based. There are referees who call the shots. If you break the rules, you are penalized. Compared to everything else, it’s fair, and the rules are reassuring.”
My own interest in professional sports has been tepid and sporadic. The biggest moment in my sporting life was in December 1953 when my father took me to an Arsenal vs. Blackpool football game at Highbury in London (Arsenal won 2-1). He somehow got us into the Blackpool locker room afterwards and members of the team, including the famous Stanley Matthews, signed my Eagle Diary.
Later on, I often went to Blue Jays games with my daughter Gabrielle, mostly as a way spending time with her. I also got interested in tennis, wrote a book about it, and in 2023, on a lark, went to the French Open at Roland Garros in Paris with my friend Philippe. Meanwhile, life was good and the world was relatively calm and I didn’t feel the need for intensive sports therapy.
Now it’s different. The world is a mess and the future is gloomy. For an old person, it doesn’t bear thinking about. I only glance at newspapers and have given up watching the PBS Newshour. Op-eds are anathema. I don’t pour over the political opinions of pundits and professors the way I once did. I’ve cancelled my subscription to The Economist. I’ve bought Raptors and Blue Jays tickets instead.
I don’t want to hear any more about OPEC, CUSMA, ECHR, or the JPOA. I want to talk about RBIs, ERAs, FGMs, FTMs and OREBs. In my left anterior temporal lobe, the part of the brain where proper names are stored, Pete Hegseth, J.D. Vance, Nigel Farage, Vladimir Putin and Alexander Lukashenko have been pushed out by Kazuma Okamoto, Vladimir Guerrero Jr., Scottie Barnes, R.J. Barrett and Sandro Mamukelashvili.
In the past ten days I have been to one Blue Jays and two Raptors games (including the fantastic Game 6 against the Cleveland Cavaliers). There’s a madness to it, particularly basketball, a contained and meaningful madness. But nowadays geopolitics has found its way even into sports stadiums. The Blue Jays and the Raptors play only American teams. At home games, the Canadian anthem is sung by the crowd with great enthusiasm, while the American anthem is met with stony silence. At the Raptors games I attended, the announcer repeatedly emphasized that the Raptors were “Canada’s Team.” The audience cheered. So did I.
But here’s something hopeful. At a Buffalo Sabres vs. Boston Bruins hockey game in Buffalo on April 28, the anthem singer’s microphone malfunctioned when she began to sing “O Canada.” The overwhelmingly American crowd picked up the anthem and sang in loudly and perfectly.
*****
A few reader comments on Endgame #130 (“Breaking up with booze”)
From my former comrade-in-arms, Al Hudec, who writes from Vancouver: “Gone to the dry side, Philip? Say it isn’t so. Some of the most memorable moments of our friendship have involved a shared bottle. A Chablis with a Chinook we caught ourselves in the Salish Sea. A Macallan 12 in the lobby lounge of the Plaza after a tough day of negotiations. Offering a friend a glass of Balvenie is one of life’s most important social rituals. It is an invitation to stay awhile — to linger, to reminisce, to tell some stories and reveal a few secrets; and to build a deeper more honest friendship. That, I think, is worth preserving.”
Alexandra Raphael has similar thoughts: “I don’t really like alcohol but I love all of the ritual associated with drinking. Bars are generally dark, warm and welcoming. And it’s very relaxing to nurse a drink in a bar, seated in a comfortable chair at a table with friends. I think it’s equally nice to serve friends a glass of whiskey or scotch, in my house, seated around my living room.But if there was a way to have this kind of experience which didn’t involve alcohol, I would probably opt for it!”
Pam Purves writes from Nova Scotia: “I like a good sleep and a day marked with energy. Not drinking pretty much guarantees both. However, the occasional dip into a fine single malt reduces anxiety and encourages helpless laughter. Both excellent for health.”
From Penny Kerr: “My days of drinking Famous Grouse have come and gone. I just liked it too much!”
Heather Chisvin writes from Port Hope: “I was never much of a drinker, but just like that, for all the reasons you stated, I stopped. And you know what? It’s not a big deal. In fact it’s not a deal at all. Quite unlike stopping smoking when I was 30, after 16 years of two packs a day. I remember opening my clothes closet one day and being revolted by the smell of cigarettes. It was hard. I started jogging to get that big rush of air as far down as it would go. Helped, but it took months to stop craving cigarettes. I still have alcohol free beer—Heineken is good. Simply for the taste. Wine without alcohol is revolting.”
From Peter Frood: “Two trips to emergency with AF following wine infused dinner gatherings and the wait for shock therapy puts me on the same path. I am now firmly embraced by the Heart Institute.”
And the last word goes to David Wolinsky, as it often does: “I shall also abandon booze. As a motivator, every Friday I shall reward myself with a thick chocolate milkshake. The fact that I never cared for or drank booze, perhaps a Bloody Caesar once or twice a year and most years never, is irrelevant. It’s the thought that counts. Already I feel better.”
*****
A plug
Available from Amazon in most countries, and from some independent bookstores in Canada (coast-to-coast) including Ben McNally Books and Book City in Toronto, Munro’s Books in Victoria, B.C., and Salt-Water Ballad Books in Port Medway, N.S
*****
A bird
Spring robin seen on Euclid Avenue
Bill is completely correct, I am approaching 60 fast and have the same opinion.
You don’t have to be as experienced as bill to realize you have no control. Everyone in power does exactly what they want, they are rich and comfortable and have no idea how their decisions and egos effect the average working person.
Even if you think you are voting for the right person they’ll still let you down.
When I was a child the evening news always ended with a funny or happy story, that ended a long time ago.
My local news channel in the UK has brought it back, well done !! , however it hasn’t encouraged me to watch the news.
I spend my time helping family and others, that gives me the feeling I need to stay sane.
I stopped watching sports when Henderson won the winning goal in the 1972 Soviet-Canada series. How could it ever get better?