The last sport I followed was high school basketball. The peak moment came during a home game my senior year when my classmate and backyard neighbor stole an inbounds pass with four seconds left and sank the winning basket. There had been a time-out before this miracle play. I asked my friend later what advice the coach had given him and his desperate teammates. It was simple and direct. “Steal the ball.”
Since then, sports sank into the welter of events: a little less interesting than musical theater, a little more than the Federal Reserve. Yet the city this summer has been consumed with sports — its first NBA title since 1973 (the year, it happens, of my friend’s basket), FIFA the invader. So, how can you follow sports when you don’t follow sports?
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