Confessions of a Converter Box Owner

Hazel Mae didn’t cut it in Boston. For the mere facts that she

1. Wasn’t from New England and…

2. Wasn’t believably Bostonian.

New Englanders like to hear from their own. They don’t trust outsiders. In fact, they feast on them. Case in point: Asking for directions.

There was this one time when I was driving through Western Mass (and for those of you who don’t know, in Massachusetts, there is Boston and there's everything else. The “everything else” is referred to as “Western Mass”) I had to stop for directions. (Forgive me for the second parenthetical statement in as many sentences but it must be stated that driving in Massachusetts is the equivalent of pin the tail on the donkey, only it’s the version of the game when you’re spinned three times before you’re allowed to approach the ass. Did you know that a bill that would require towns and cities in the Commonwealth to post street signs on street corners HAS BEEN TURNED DOWN more than half a dozen times in the last decade?)

I go into a convenient store and ask for directions to a nearby town. The native New Englander grizzles, “oh! Youah WAY oaff!” and proceeds to giddily describe the odyssey I’m due if I want to reach my destination. Frustrated and trying to decipher the difference between I-95 and Route 128, I decide to discard his advice and drive on. Two right turns and ¾ of a mile later, I’m there. Gee. Thanks Mr. New England. (From now on, when I’m driving through unfamiliar New England territory, I make sure and don a Sox cap. It’s kinda like knowing the secret handshake when encountering a local. It means instant credibility and garners instant trust.)

So when a Philippines born woman who grew up in Toronto took the desk at the New England Sports Network, it was only a matter of time before she jumped ship for another job. I’m happy she found the MLB.

I must confess, however. I don’t watch much NESN. In fact, I don’t watch much ESPN either. Truth be told. I hardly watch cable at all.

I don’t have it.

For over three years now, I’ve lived where I work. There are many advantages to bedding down where you earn your paychecks. For one, my commute is all but 7 seconds. And the only time I run into anything that could be identified as “traffic” is when I have to swat away a fly on the way down the stairs. In addition, I haven’t written a rent check or paid for groceries or laundry since graduating from Harvard. (And anyone whose graduated from the Div School can tell you that a Master’s in Theological Studies does not bode well for one’s earnings potential.)

On the minus side, a prisoner at San Quentin has more space than I do. To illustrate my point, I can touch one wall with one hand, and reach out with my other hand and come within a hood ornament of touching the opposite wall. And…here’s the kicker.

There is no cable hookup.

But do I let this keep me from watching television?!? No! I own rabbit ears. And as of the recent change to digital television signals, I also own a Converter Box. There. I said it. I own a converter box. I didn’t know this was something to be ashamed of until I was talking to my brother Tim and my buddy Todd last summer. “Converter boxes are for old people and foreigners,” Tim giggled. I fail to see the humor.

Sure, I don’t get to follow the trendy reality shows on Bravo. I haven’t watched a Real World Marathon on MTV in ages. I don’t get to witness the latest brilliance from Trey Parker and Matt Stone. Or appreciate smart shows that inform like Dirty Jobs. Top20 Countdown on VHI? Ha! The last #1 Video I watched was Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone.” And how appropriate, that since I’VE been gone, television has become High Definition, On Demand, Plasma and Wide Screen. But Tim, at least MY television doesn’t give me headaches.

Now. You would think not having cable or satellite or anything resembling options in programming would handicap my ability as a sports fan. Au contraire, derriere.

The NFL and College Football and Basketball still have contracts with the four major networks, which cover those sports comprehensively. CBS broadcasts the AFC. FOX covers the NFC. Every Sunday night, NBC hosts the game of the week, almost always a marquee matchup. My only beef is with the networks insistence on broadcasting NFL games according to the viewer’s region. I’ve never felt this more deeply than when I was home with my parents during Week 16 of the NFL season. That week there were so many games that had playoff implications: Broncos-Eagles, Jets-Colts, Panthers-Giants and what was promising to be an outright gangfight between the Ravens and Steelers. But which two games were assigned to my parents’ region? The Bay Area got stuck with 49ers-Lions and Raiders-Browns. The combined record of those four teams? 20-44. The 49ers head coach actually admitted before their game with the Lions that his goal was to be the best team NOT to make the playoffs this year. Yuck.

College Football has a much smarter approach. Let’s say ABC has the rights to broadcast three games during the 3:30pm slot. Let’s say the three games are Oklahoma-Texas, USC-UCLA and Michigan-Ohio State. I live in New England, none of those three games are in my region. What ABC does is picks the game they think is the most coveted and broadcasts THAT game in the unidentified regions. The West will still get USC-UCLA. The Midwest will still get Michigan-Ohio State and Texas will still get Sooners-Longhorns. But the Atlantic, the Sunbelt, the Northwest, New England and the South will get whichever games means the most. Genius.

Add that CBS has a deal with the SEC, Notre Dame has a deal with NBC and FOX has a deal with the BCS and you can watch college football from noon till midnight on a Saturday. Believe me. I’ve done it.

But the real clincher. The one thing that has kept my sport fandom more than above water is the free Wireless internet access I have at home/work and the fact that the internet provider is Comcast, which thereby results in my free and flurried access to ESPN360. God’s gift to the Sports Fan.

During one 48 hour stretch on New Year’s Day and the day after, I watched 10 bowl games in their entirety, thanks to my computer and my scoffed at converter box.
Because of the internet, I can watch my favorite show on ESPN, PTI. I can watch live sporting events like the Outback Bowl (don’t hate. Northwestern-Auburn was the best bowl game this year outside of Roady’s Humanitarian Bowl between Idaho and Bowling Green. If you don’t trust me. Review the highlights.) Because of the internet, I can watch the same analysis, commentary and highlights you can watch on ESPN. And I get to CHOOSE what I want to watch and what I don’t and when! It’s better than OnDemand. It’s IDemand.

Now. Back to the MLB Network. It’s true that I can’t watch Game 4 of the 1965 World Series. It’s true I can’t watch Harold Reynolds and Dan Pleasac break down a Cincinnati Reds trade in a 7-minute segment. But with mlb.com, I can pay $79 and watch every game on any day at any time I want, as long as it’s not a Red Sox game. (And believe me, I can find out what happened to the Sox last night in .37 nanoseconds by flipping on my local news. Seriously. A Beckett shutout or even an Ortiz O-fer is Headline News in this town. And you’re shit outta luck if you want scores that reach beyond the AL East.)

I said all that to say this. You can be an informed sports fan in the 21st century without cable. Without DirecTV. Without HD. Without OnDemand. Without FIOS. Without Plasma. All you need is Comcast and a converter box. I’ll bet old people and foreigners make great sports fans.