Hello, my name is Scott Fragale and I’m a sports addict.
I always knew I was a big sports fan but I never really thought I had a
problem controlling it until I got my new BlackBerry. Sure, there was
the occasional argument with a girlfriend stemming from over-watching
sporting events on TV or missing a vital piece of information here and
there because I was locked in to a football broadcast, but I had always
chalked that up to others not understanding my passion for the game or
women not getting the whole “guy thing.” But after this past weekend, I
sense things are spinning out of control.
I was one of the groomsmen in a good friend’s wedding this past weekend
when my addiction reared its ugly head and pushed me one step closer to
rehab. It had been a few years since I was in a wedding so the procedure
was a little fuzzy, but I did my best to act like I had been there
before and blend in with the others. I sat down at church when the
others did, I bowed in front of the minister at the proper times, and I
did my best Milli Vanilli impression when it came time to sing several
classics from the Bible. I learned quickly during the rehearsal that any
misguided steps or unappreciated cell phone ringers would not be
tolerated so I vowed at that point that I would be “that guy” on my
buddy’s big day.
I had no problem following orders to make sure the ringers on our cell
phones were turned off. I followed all of the other instructions given
as well but made the mistake of not powering down the phone altogether
so I wouldn’t be tempted to sneak a peek during any number brief
intermissions we had throughout the day. During one such break, like any
addict, I got that urge. The first time was not an issue, as I got a
quick score update on the USA-England World Cup game during a quick stop
in the restroom. I came back with nobody the wiser and shared the score
with the other guys. They must have all had completed their 12-step
programs already or they didn’t have ESPN.com, but they demonstrated the
self discipline an addict can only dream of with their matter-of-fact
responses. While they seemed pleased to get the update I felt like I was
the leading vote-getter in the “that guy” sweepstakes so I decided from
that point forward updates would given on a need-to-know basis only.
Because it was a traditional Catholic wedding, I knew my tolerance would
be put to the test throughout the course of the one-hour-plus ceremony.
I made it through the first half without an problems, but I will admit
to sneaking a peak as we all reshuffled after receiving communion. It
was a half-second look at best and I played it off by fixing the cuff on
my shirt so I’m sure nobody at the church saw it, but that didn’t help
me from thinking the man watching over the church did. And that’s when
it hit me, the first time I was forced to admit my addiction and realize
that I truly did have a problem.
I believe admitting you have a problem is one of 12 steps and a big part of the recovery so as I said earlier: My name is Scott Fragale and I’m an
addict. I admit it. And the reason I know this to be true? Because I
don’t even like soccer, World Cup soccer or any other variety. I’d
rather watch golf, horse racing or even curling than the world’s
favorite game that’s provided us more ties than the Men’s Warehouse ever
will. Well, gotta go, check-in time is almost here and I haven’t even
figured out how I’m going to sneak my phone into the clinic yet.