Follow The Bouncing Ball

 I do not, as history will tell you, enjoy watching sports in real time. I tend instead to catch up after the players have left the field, court or pitch and catch the highlights at which I could not bring myself to stare. Field goals, no matter how hard I lean on my couch, do not alter their trajectory based on my wishes. Free throws go in or they don't, based not on my crossed fingers or hexes, but instead go through the hoop based almost entirely on the skills of the person throwing the ball in that direction. Or not. 

The belief that my watching any or all of these events might somehow alter the outcome of these contests is deeply ingrained in my American psyche and I have tried many times to shake it. Watching the random bouncing of balls does not bring me anything but more stress. This is why God created ESPN. 

This corollary of the Heisenberg principle was in play on Tuesday night when the candidates for President from the two major parties met for a televised debate. I explained my anxieties to my wife, who did not (to her credit) try and dissuade me from simply checking out and reading the memes the following day. But, brave little soldier that I am, I sat down and looked on as the future of our great nation was decided on the ABC television network. Coincidentally ABC is part of the same media mammoth that spawned ESPN. 

At some point, it became clear that this was not going to be a substantive discussion of policy, but rather an opportunity for one of the candidates to air the current stream of nonsense spouted at his "well-attended" rallies. Kamala Harris, at several points, seemed bemused by the performance of the gentleman to her right. The obverse could not be said of the gentleman on her right. He seemed committed to bringing the same bile and hate to the debate stage as he has to those assemblages of MAGAts.

Was it over when he started panting about Haitian immigrants eating dogs and cats in Springfield, Ohio? Maybe it was before that, but it was most surely a reminder of just how far off the track the convicted felon's trolley is when he flopped around and restated his claims that he had won the 2020 election. This was a return to form, but not necessarily in a good way for the twice-impeached former game show host. 

Across the way, it must have been difficult for Ms. Harris to not look to run up the score, finding more ways for the former "president" to dig himself a deeper hole. Back in June, I had watched the political career of Joseph Robinette Biden Jr.'s come to a somewhat unceremonious end. Try as I might back in those early days of summer, I attempted to piece together bits of meaning to the tired and slow responses to the hammering he took at the hands of this morally and financially bankrupt buffoon. 

Watching on Tuesday night felt like not just retribution, but a reminder of what a new generation of leaders looks like. 

Am I certain that our future is assured? Too many of the red-cap clan have already made up their tiny little minds. These are the ones who lap up and perpetuate the ugly racial stereotypes like the one about Ohio cats and dogs. The bright spot is this: The childless cat lady in chief, a (checks notes) Taylor Swift, has finally chosen to give her personal endorsement to Kamala Harris. 

I do not know if any of this sound and fury will change the outcome of the election. But I hope it does.