So when the Suns were in the NBA finals contention the office took on a distinct Orange and Purple flavor. I was very proud that I understood why this had happened. I knew the local team was doing well in basketball and people decorated their cubicles with team colored streamers.

But then there was another cube decorated in Blue and White. I don't know if any NBA team has those colors, but I assumed they would be the opposing team and some dislocated soul was just pulling for their home team. So I asked, "Who the Suns playing?"

After the initial shock of me knowing the team's name and that basketball was entering a final stage for the season, my cubicle compatriots gave me a team name. I promptly forgot it. So then I further inquired, "Are their colors blue and white?"

Laughter ensued. Having restated by ignorance for the record. The normally sports enable men around me blurted a raucous, "NO!"

"OK, why is Rick's cube all blue and white, then?" I had to ask...

"Rick is leaving us and moving to Los Angeles. I guess blue and white were the streamer on sale or something. There's cake in the break room!"

Wow, that one wasn't even about sports and I still felt my disability.

I did get to a bar for the annual Guinness consumption last weekend. I downed a few fine Irish pints in honor of the drinking holiday while I was in Las Vegas. Other than this blissful oasis of alcoholic understanding bars are a tough place for me to be in March.

Even the most "non sports" bars find a way to roll out a couple televisions to show college kids playing basketball. As evident from this bLog, I don't completely understand professional sports. This makes the fanaticism of college (alleged to be more amateur) sports less logical. I understand being very active in a team's success and failures when you are involved with the team. My nephew dragged a throng of friends and relatives from high school to college and from team to team.

After your friend or relative leaves, though? It might be time to give it up. I can excuse talent scouts who are primarily paid to find good talent in this league. They are paid to be "that" interested in college ball.

The rest of you with the hats and shirts of schools that have no value outside basketball need to calm down. Enjoy your "Sweet Sixteen" this week. Just get it out of your system so we can go back to serious drinking in April. Please, don't quote any statistics to the guy drinking at the table farthest from the TV. I just can't care.

I can't wait for April.

I almost lost my life today by angering a co-worker with a keen sports sense. There was some heated debate over who was going to win the Super Bowl this Sunday. Heated because some Long-Time, Die Hard, Chicago-Dwellers were rooting for their Bears and the gentlemen with the keen sense of the game assured them they were just dreaming.

As proof, or back up or whatever reason possessed him, he turned to me for my opinion of who would win.

I had to concede I did not know the other team. You know the other NFL Team playing in the Super Bowl! The grand daddy of American Mediasport events!

I knew that Prince was playing the half time show!

This confused and therefore angered the sports expert. He assume I was trying to dodge the question with this impossibly lame stunt! I was not.

He then pointed out that I had heard the other team's name mentioned in the conversation. In fact I had made a comment earlier in the week that another co-worker and former Maryland dweller would probably root for this team out of habit, though he was still upset by their move from Baltimore.

The other team is the Indianapolis Colts.

In one of many attempt to engender my sport sense I had a Baltimore Colts comforter on my bed as a child. I remember Baltimore because it was not far from my Eastern Pennsylvania home. I remember the Colts. Mostly because I had to ask my mother, "What is a colt?" I knew it was related to horses because there was a prominent horseshoe on the helmet. She explained it.

I moved to Arizona. We have newspaper called the Republic. I was handed the Sports Section today. Apparently my friend 'O' did not have a hand in a basketball victory. His absence has noted by José Garcia.



Fortunately for the team 'D' made it to the court and saved the day.

My nephew is a football star. He played in high school and college. His father is a football coach. This is a group of guys who truly "get" football.

I was first introduced to Big "O" at a Hofstra University game. Everyone was cheering for this guy when Hofstra was behind in the score. I was frantically scanning the roster trying to determine which player had earned the nickname "Big O" and just knew he had to be on the points scoring side of the game.

I failed.

I have a rare genetic disorder. Although born a male child I lack a small segment of the genetic code that allows me to comprehend complicated sports rituals. The only documentation I have discovered on this disorder is in German. I can't read German, so, most of my evidence will remain anecdotal. I hope my notes bring comfort to other afflicted and understanding from those having difficulty comprehending this malady.